Summerboy
by Little Miss Mionie
Summary: Every summer vacation, Edward was Bella's annual secret escape. At school, Bella can't hide from the whispers that she deserved what happened during "the incident". Her summery and wintry worlds collide.  AH, Edward/Bella
1. Prologue: Summer Rain

Prologue: Summer Rain

**Thanks to PasticheLethe for being a fabulous beta for this fic! Chapter One will be posted in a few days time.**

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This past summer had been unlike the others. It had been raining.

Edward and I met in our usual spot, on the shaded sand, far away from the prying eyes of the caravan park's inhabitants. My mother and Edward's parents' were blissfully drunk and none the wiser outside their motor home, like always. The absence of my mother's long-time boyfriend had been swept away by the unusual howling wind.

The grainy Florida sand beneath my feet felt cold. My brown hair was slick wet against my head. My lips were dull and cracked from exposure to the wind, and I knew that my face looked just as dreary. I hadn't been sleeping very well and the nightmares showed in the bags under my eyes and the paleness of my face. Perhaps the weather could justify my appearance to the casual observer, but Edward wouldn't be so easily fooled. I didn't want him to be fooled. I wanted him to know. I _needed_ him to understand. I knew that he would when no one else did.

Edward wasn't wearing a shirt, but the pink splotches on his pale chest betrayed his apparent nonchalance about the freezing wind that whipped around us. His messy hair had been flattened to his head by the pelting rain. Edward gave me his best lopsided smile, the one that had made me melt without fail for the last three years. I shifted anxiously, scrunching the sand under my midnight blue painted toes.

"Hey, Bella - " Edward started, but I cut him off miserably.

"I can't do this." To my shame, my face twisted and screwed up as I choked back a sob. I couldn't believe I was actually _crying_. "Not this year, Edward. S-Something bad happened."

Edward reached out and pried my hand from its death-grip around my waist. His hand was warm and smooth. Behind the veiling of his hair, his pale green eyes were kind.

The past summer vacations hadn't been the same. We weren't fifteen and fumbling around in my mom and I's hired cabin, making blood oaths that swore these meetings would only be summer trysts – no contact throughout the year. We weren't sweet sixteen and secretly drinking stolen vodka while doing things I'd read about in _Cosmopolitan_. We weren't almost seventeen and skinny-dipping in the river, sand dusting our hips.

We were finally seventeen, and because of _the_ _incident,_ I spent my summer vacation seeking comfort in Edward's embrace. He was the only one who didn't tell me I _was overreacting and needed to get over it._ He was sweet like always as we got ice cream and told each other things no one else knew, because no one from our real lives knew the other.

He didn't push me. He didn't tell me to stop blubbering _because it's not like you were even actually raped, Isabella. You lead him on – don't try to deny it. _

Our blood-sworn agreement seemed so flawless. But this past, cold, wretched summer marked a change.

I should have known it was too perfect to last.


	2. Tempest Brewing

One: Tempest Brewing

**Major Trigger Warnings for the WHOLE story:** All chapters contain implicit references of a past sexual assault on a 17yo girl by an adult male. There will never be explicit details or graphic scenes relating to this notion. Please be cautious when reading if this type of scenario upsets or triggers you in any way. If you have been a victim of assault of any kind and would like someone to talk to, ringing a helpline is a great idea. In Australia, there is the "Kids Helpline" for those up the age of 25 (1800 55 1800) and "Lifeline" (13 11 14). In the USA, there is "RAINN", and in the UK, "Supportline". If you want to feel like you're not alone and don't want to talk – _Speak_ by Laurie Halse Anderson is an incredibly real and relatable novel.

**Other stuff to warn you of:** This fic also contains scenes of a consensual sexual/sensual nature, allusions to consensual intercourse between minors, and frequent coarse language.

**Oh, and** there's a bit of faux-feminist bashing in this fic by way of the character Victoria; I didn't really realise I may have been putting out a bad vibe about the sisterhood until recently! Oops. Bella's the real feminist heroine of this story, anyway. Victoria's just a person with too many opinions and not enough sense.

**Thanks to** everyone who reviews, and thanks to PasticheLethe for being an awesome beta!

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"I am _sooo _glad that I quit math. I'd hate to be you, Bella."

I scowl at my 'best friend', Jessica, from where I am crouched on the ground. She can be incredibly kind in rare moments, but is mostly ridiculously tactless. Case in point: I dropped all my books as I came out of our math classroom, and instead of helping me pick them up, Jess takes this opportunity to make my already bad mood worse. I think she's punishing me for still attempting to associate with her.

We bonded back in grade nine because she and Lauren were the only girls I could talk to about sex without being automatically branded a dirty slut, or knew what I was talking about. Angela was a great friend, but she just didn't _know_. I wasn't vocal about my conquests – I was just a quiet girl with some experience who needed a confidant. However, now, because of _the incident,_ I _have_ been branded a dirty, pathetic slut. When I asked my friends if they were able to keep a secret, they had nodded, their facial expression serious, and then proceeded to spread the news around.

Nowadays, teachers keep their distance for fear I might bring _them_ up on sexual assault charges. Guys insult me because they think I enjoy the company of older men. Girls whisper that I had it coming, and probably enjoyed all the attention I received.

The worst part of all is that I can understand their points of view. Sometimes I wonder if I did deserve what happened.

"Gee, thanks," I mutter in reply to Jess after a moment. I finally have a hold on all my books; none of my fellow maths students had offered to help me, so it took me longer than necessary. James Whitlam did kindly offer to "give me the ride of my life," but I don't think that really counts as helpful.

I had thought that a good summer away from everyone at school would change things; that things would go back to the way they were. My friends had assured me that there were newer, bigger, and better scandals. However, it seemed Tyler giving Lauren chlamydia wasn't enough to stop me falling off the social ladder. This first day of school has made that clear.

Jess gives me a caustic smile and a wave as she departs for her English classroom. The second bell rings, and I sprint towards the crowd of Advanced English students lazing about outside A Block. I get there just in time to hear everyone collectively agree to lie and say that they've read the prescribed texts. I stand, holed up in the corner, and try to appear inconspicuous. Students who are destined to get a GPA of 5.0 surround me, and I don't even fit in.

I read King Lear twice. And made notes.

Just kill me now.

English is boring. Another speech about hard work, integrity…God, it's even too boring to summarize. The only slightly interesting about English is that I sit next to Alice Brandon. She's a quiet, nice girl whose socializing is severely limited by her strictly religious mother – but I think it's Mary Brandon's absurd stringency rather than theological beliefs that restrict Alice. She's had the guts to have a short, spiky haircut though, which is pretty admirable in my opinion.

I find out that Alice has read King Lear as well – I guess I'm not a loner anymore.

On my way out of the classroom, Alice places a small hand on my forearm and whispers, "Look at who your friends really are." A year ago, I would have looked at Alice as if she was crazy and proceeded to laugh about her with Jess and Lauren. Now, a strange shiver runs down my back as she speaks, and I can't help wonder if she's right.

In period three, I get a detention for wearing the wrong school shirt – too low cut, apparently. Laurent, who claims his one-fifteenth French heritage way too often, makes a stupid comment about my lack of breasts. My explanation, more like excuse, is cut off mid-way, and I don't even bother pointing out that every other student in the class has the incorrect shoes on. The bell for recess rings, and I am saved.

I meet the girls at the lockers. Jess is already chattering away about her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Mike Newton. Angela kindly helps me shove my massive pile of books into my locker as Lauren, who isn't known for her subtlety, inquires to Jess about Mike's oral sex skills.

Angela is the nicer one of our group. She doesn't say much, but she does let Jess and Lauren walk over her, which is a bit of a shame. We had been friends since grade five, but over the past couple of years our bond had slipped due to Angela's boyfriend, Ben. I would resent him taking up all of Ang's time if he wasn't so nice – but even if he wasn't, who would I secretly beat at _Halo?_

I ask Angela how her first couple of classes of our second-to-last senior year have been as my stupid locker door refuses to close. She's in a higher ranked math class than me and has a much cooler teacher. They'd been learning about limits, and Ms Cassidy, in all her infinite wisdom, decided to go through the non-existent limit formula from _Mean Girls._ Angela commiserates with me about my detention as us four girls walk towards the cafeteria, and as we grab our lunch and Lauren starts bitching about some senior girl with super bad acne. Jess joins in.

Even Angela laughs as Jess cries, "Um, Proactive, anyone?"

I wonder if Jess's frizzy hair is so big because it's _full of secrets,_ like Gretchen Weiner's. I don't think Jess's joke is funny. I feel myself automatically distancing myself from my 'friends' – I absolutely hate it when they put their stupidity on display.

Jess turns away from the line, waiting for Lauren and I to finish piling our trays, when her eyes go big. _I have gossip _big.

"You look like you've just spotted Leonardo Di Caprio strutting across the playground, Jess," I observe.

"Oh, God, _almost_. I met this totally hot dude at the back-to-school party last night."

I turn around as Jess and Angela begin to wave towards this new guy. They call out, "Hey, Edward!", and I freeze.

This can't be happening.

One of the few good things in my life is irrevocably fucked up as Edward Cullen's gaze locks me into place.

He looks shocked to see me. I'm sure my face mirrors his. Fear grabs at my heart, and I look elsewhere. In my peripheral vision, I see that Edward gets distracted by Jess' overenthusiastic waving and finally waves back.

Holy _fucking_ shit! What on earth is Edward Cullen doing at Forks High? What alternate universe is this?

"His name's Edward Cullen," Jess whispers as Edward returns to what looked like an enthusiastic conversation. He's sitting with Tyler, Mike, Ben, Eric and a few other football freaks about five tables away. "He's from Florida. His mom got a council job around here, and they decided to move them all like three weeks ago."

_Thanks, Jess._

I don't even remember walking to our lunch table. I pick at my salad as Lauren openly claims Edward.

I wish I had my copy of _Sense and Sensibility_ to hide in. I feel angry and scared. Edward didn't tell me he was moving here! Why didn't he call me and warn me for God's sake?

_Because you never gave him your number, Oh Smart One._

It was I, fifteen and already aware of how stupid it was to trust in someone emotionally, that suggested that our summer "lust-capades" be _only_ summer "lust-capades". My mom had left my dad heartbroken when I was three – and had left me with him. Charlie had gotten most of the custody, with my mom having custody of me during the summer. It was an uncommon arrangement that both Renee and Charlie had agreed to.

I had grown up looking at the result of getting close enough to be hurt by someone you care for every day in the face of Charlie. Edward had been my first real relationship – and I wasn't going to make the same mistakes that my parents had. I had to be stronger.

So our distance during the year was something I was used to. We lived in different states, so it was easy. We weren't even Myspace friends. But what would I do now? I couldn't let people know that Edward was mine for the summer, and I his. I was a very private person – it was none of their business that Edward was my summerboy. Besides, Edward would just be dragged into the mess that was me and _the incident_. Rumours would start, and that wasn't a great position for the new kid to be in.

Lauren and Jess kinda ignore me for the rest of lunch, waxing poetical over Edward's _bronze hair_. It looks more red-brown to me, but I don't say anything – not even when they call his eyes _emerald_. Ew.

I'm hanging by a thread with them, and I'm sure my preoccupied silence will just aggravate them even more. It's not cool to hang out with the girl who called sexual assault on her mom's boyfriend. I'm ruining their reputation by hanging out with them. It's only a matter of time before I'll have to find a new lunch table to sit at, and all four of us know that.

I sneak a peek at Edward from behind my hair. He looks like he's settled in well here at Forks High. He has a smile on his face. I'm sure he's really shitty about all the rain. Edward hates rain.

I decide to ignore him. If we ever speak, he'll hopefully get the message that we have never met before. I just hope Jess and Lauren keep their interest muted, and that I never run into Emmett, Edward's older brother, in the supermarket.

The rest of the day passes in a boring blur. I don't have Biology, which is a bummer, because Science has been my favourite subject for the past two years. I answer a question wrong in Modern History, and some girl with ugly braces and a feminist attitude corrects me loudly and makes an innuendo about _my sexual perversions_.

I had thought that the feminists would be on my side. It used to hurt that girls I knew thought I was lying about the sexual assault. My mom had assured me that girls would understand, that strange victimised feeling and be on my side, even if some boys thought I was lying. She was wrong. I was a slut because I wasn't a virgin in a small town. And because I was a slut, I apparently deserved to be sexually assaulted. I probably just wanted the attention. It was about time someone put me in my place.

_Phil's hand reaches the zip of my light-blue denim jeans _and I tell the bad-teeth feminist that I'd like to hit her ignorant head with my copy of _The Bell Jar_. I get a detention. Braceface gets a correct answer. I tell myself that I don't feel hurt by what she said.

School ends. I serve my detention, and I am told I have another one tomorrow. No shit. When I get home, Charlie has ordered pizza for dinner. I explain what happened at school, and the police chief offers to ring up the school and threaten a meeting with the principal. I give him a better offer: forget about it. I thank him for ordering the veggo pizza this time and eat quickly.

As I wash up, Charlie sits at the table reviewing a new case, the basketball game on TV muted but in viewing range. I say goodnight and go have a shower. I make it a long one. The steam obscures my face in the mirror for a moment as I stand dripping wet with a towel around my waist. I can see that my shower hasn't gotten rid of all my makeup – there's eyeliner smudged under my bottom eyelashes. I rub at it, like the way make up artists' tell you will give you wrinkles.

This morning I had paused as I reached for my powder foundation. I used to feel like I was a completely different person on vacation in Florida. No need to wear make-up, care if I ate a whole bag of chips or watched the Mr-Darcy-Coming-Out-Of-The-Water scene ten times in a row. I wasn't _me_ on vacation. But since this last cold, rainy summer, I had felt more like I left myself behind in Florida and carved a new Bella Swan back in Forks. Instead of becoming more confident with age and experience, I was slowly drawing within myself.

This morning I had remembered I wanted, for some bizarre reason, to keep my friends, and put my Bella-Swan-Forks face on.

The skin under my eyes is red from rubbing. I'm tired. I wonder if Alice Brandon will let me copy the notes that we were meant to make for tomorrow's lesson. I remember her strange, truthful words, and get dressed into my pyjamas.

I try not to think about Edward Cullen. Thankfully, Charlie hadn't mentioned the family friend's arrival in our home town. I slip under the bedcovers and stare at the blue and green woven dream catcher my friend, Jacob ,gave me for Christmas. I make a wish as the rain washes down my window and close my eyes, but I have nightmares regardless.

...

_We are sixteen. Edward has come to this vacation with a really bad haircut – it looks like Emmett attacked him with a razor. We lay on the beach. My hair is tangled and dry with sea salt, and as I try to look up into Edward's face, I have to squint. The sun is hot and blinding._

_Edward is tracing a finger along the jagged scar on my thigh I was rewarded with by the southern rock pools. His pale green eyes look almost colourless in the sun._

_"Bella," Edward says, his voice all grown up and honey. Last year it had been breaking, but on this vacation it has seemed to have reached adulthood. "I think I'm sort of in love with you."_

_I ignore the thousands of thoughts and feelings, and Edward's sentiment too. It might hurt him – my deliberate ignorance. But we only see each other every summer. Declarations of feelings would lead to a long-distance relationship and even more hurt._

_I kiss him on his lips, and let my hands slip over his broad, sunburnt shoulders._

_"Let's get an ice-cream, loverboy." I giggle, and pull him up from the warm, smooth sand. We race each other to the ice cream van, getting lost in the oblivion of the incandescent cloudless sky._

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**A/N:** This is my first attempt at a Twilight AU/AH story, so I'm pretty excited to hear what people think about it. I'm well-versed in angst, though! What do you think of Bella? What about Alice's mysterious warning? And doesn't Edward sound sort of heavenly? xx


	3. Rolling Thunder

**Rolling Thunder**

**A/N:** Thanks to **ttharman, joeyBB** and **Minnakoda** for being such lovely reviewers, and to **pastichelethe **for being a fab beta. I recommend reading this in the 1/2 view!

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The furious torrent of rain is the soundtrack for my drive to school. I check my make up in my rear-view mirror as I start the engine of my old, faithful Chevy. It looks Bella-Swan-Forks appropriate, I suppose. My Maybelline concealer has done a great job covering up the remnants of the dark corners and _large, spindly fingers playing with the thin straps of my white t-shirt_ that plagued my nightmares. I desperately want to take all of my make up off and go soak up the sun in Florida.

Feeling resigned, I mentally check that I have all of my textbooks for the day and pull out of our gravel driveway.

Homeroom and history are boooooring. English, third period, is much better.

I sit down next to Alice, who flashes me a brilliant smile. I tell her that I love her dress – it's long-sleeved, green, and vintage. We talk about a few things because our English teacher is late. Alice seems a little freaked out that I'm actually having a conversation with her, and that I'm interested in what she says….which totally sucks. I remember that she normally sits alone at lunch, reading obscure stuff like the French version of _Vogue_. I find out that we both have the taste in books – she's an Austen fan, too.

Alice lets me copy her notes with a chirpy, "Sure!" It's raining, it's Tuesday, _and_ we're at school. It baffles much how she can see the bright side, but I'm grateful, anyways.

I ask Alice if she likes the infamous BBC adaption of _Pride and Prejudice_ as Mike lobs a ball of paper over our heads. It misses the wastebasket completely. I look to Alice for a reply; her gray-blue eyes are unfocused, as though she's distracted.

"Alice?" Worry colors my voice.

Alice doesn't respond for a moment, before she shakes her head and smiles ruefully.

"Sorry," she replies, slowly returning to her bright demeanour. "Sometimes I just…_feel things_ and it distracts me. I, uh, do like that series – but the Keira Knightley one was pretty awful, wasn't it? Oh, and watch out for ladders, by the way."

Her random warning floors me for a beat or two. Her guess about my friends the day before was pretty accurate; I decide I'm going to heed her advice.

Once our teacher arrives, the class is launched into a discussion about different interpretations of King Lear. It seems most of my _GPA 5.0 _classmates have gone to the effort to check out SparkNotes. I think Mike might have even read a study guide. I wish Alice would put up her hand and share her thoughts, but I'm not hypocritical enough to push someone to do something they don't want to do. Her notes are amazing – she's used her own Roman Catholic context to highlight some great religious motifs in the play. Alice has even found Hazlitt quotes that fit her thesis. It's far more intelligent than my rehashed list of Shakespearian techniques.

On second thought, maybe it's better if Alice doesn't share her opinion with the class. _5.0 GPA _classmates might steal her ideas. She's going to own us all in our exams and I can't _wait_.

I'm really beginning to like Alice Brandon.

I wave goodbye to her at the end of class, feeling sort of…happy…as I walk into the cafeteria for recess. I grab my lunch and sit down at our table. Angela gives me a feeble smile, and Jess bothers to look my way for a moment before returning to her cell. I assume she's texting Mike. I look around for Lauren, and I spot her.

She's walking towards our table and laughing. She's laughing because Edward, who is walking with her, has probably said something extremely witty.

I can't seem to escape him.

Edward sits down next to me, but he's facing Lauren, Jess and Angela. Lauren replies in low voice to whatever he said that made her laugh. His knee bumps my thigh as he positions his legs over the table-seat. In a nanosecond, I go from fearful to flustered, a blush flushing up my neck and face. I usually get like this when we meet for the first time every vacation; I then become quickly relaxed once we settle into the ease of our summer rhythm, and I transform from _quiet girl_ into Florida-Bella. But now, in the Forks High cafeteria, I'm completely out of sync. There's something undeniable and unidentifiable between us, and I can just _feel it_.

I can feel Edward's eyes on me. I take a bite out of my sandwich: lettuce, tomato, asparagus and cheese on wholemeal bread. It tastes absolutely disgusting.

"Edward was just teaching me how to swear in French, Jess." Lauren giggles.

I look from behind my obscuring veil of hair – the outgrowing of a long-gone side fringe – to see Edward grin amusedly.

"I Googled it as soon as I started the subject," he admits, playfully. He extends a hand to my curly-haired friend. "Jess, was it?"

"Oh, yep. I'm Jess. " I bet Jess will extract his DNA from her sweaty palm and store it in her freezer. She's good at science.

"Cool. I'm Edward."

Jess smiles in excitement as Angela introduces herself. I take the chance to look around the room. It seems everyone knows now that Edward is considered cool and has more than the appeal of the new kid – he's hung out with the popular guys in our year, and now our group. If he were anything less, Lauren wouldn't have invited him to sit with us for lunch. Popularity in our small ole' sleepy town isn't measured by the latest iPod or the coolest car or if you can host house parties all the time like it is in the big cities. Our group is considered popular because we – Lauren and Jessica especially – think that we are untouchable, and that we just _are_ cooler than everyone else. Everyone else in our year knows that we're just sluts who drink whole bottles of vodka and that we are just as unnoticeable as they are – but they _let us_ believe we are popular. Not even Braces Girl will stand up and tell us that we're full of shit.

Sometimes I wish someone would just disillusion us all.

So, Jess isn't your dumb brunette who goes along with whatever Lauren says. She beats everyone at Chemistry and refuses to straighten her hair. But she latches on to things that are exotic, niche, and that will make everyone jealous. Edward fits the bill.

"Sooo…you're from Florida?" she asks brightly. She even bats her eyelashes, enhanced by Covergirl black mascara.

Lauren takes the more direct approach as Jess inquires of Edward – she wears Lancôme, in any case. She's sucking on the blue straw from her small carton of strawberry milk as if it's Edward's cock. I'm ninety percent sure that's the allusion she's going for, anyways. Edward notices and smirks at me, as though we're sharing a secret joke. We do normally parody girls like that. However, I look away, suddenly finding the most revolting salad sandwich I have ever tasted very interesting.

"Yeah," Edward replies, laughing, "I kinda miss the sun."

Angela smiles sympathetically. "Did you surf much back home?"

Edward breaks out his best lopsided smile as he locks in on what is obviously a fond topic.

"I surfed sometimes, but I wasn't very good at it," he replies, his face lighting up. His pale eyes look darker in the dim lighting, almost hazel in colour. "My brother was more of the surf pro. Oh, but this one time, Bella - "

_Oh, Lord no._ He's going to launch into the story of how he was teaching me to surf and I ended up crashing into Emmett, cutting in on some stoned-out-of-their-mind local's wave.

" –I'm not very good at surfing. Thanks for asking, though," I blurt out loudly, before Edward ruins this whole thing. I hope my voice sounded polite.

I think I may have flung myself down a few more rungs of the social ladder, judging by the looks that the girls give me. Edward eyes me with confusion.

"I'm just gonna go get an apple," I say quickly, rising from the seat in attempt to escape. I turn away and head of the lunch line, where I will probably find a green, bruised apple waiting for me. I hate green apples.

Then I hear Edward say, "Oh, hey, I think I'll get one too."

Con: There's no avoiding him in the lunch line. Pro: There's red apples.

I can feel that strange, charged and secretive feeling between us; the electrical idea that we both know, and secret that sparks between our bodies. He bends low, down to my height, and whispers, "What the hell was that?"

There's no masking the desperation on my face as I pleading look at him. "I'll tell you later, okay? Just ignore me for the rest of lunch."

Edward _doesn't_ ignore me for the rest of lunch, the beautiful bastard. He keeps trying to include me in conversations. Jess almost blows everything when she jokes that maybe I'd spotted Edward during my vacations to Florida. My uneasy laugh must have signalled something to Edward, though, because he doesn't say a word in response.

He's definitely impressed the girls. It's easy to see why I fell in lust with him, and why he became such a wonderful summer friend to me. He's nice, funny, intelligent, artsy _and_ genetically blessed. His only fault is that he would rather listen to Chopin than Linkin Park – which I think is a secret he didn't really want me to find out. He's certainly led the guys to believe he's a fan of Rammstein and Rage Against The Machine.

I don't know what he was like back home in Florida – we never really talked about exes – but it's obvious he's a charmer. By the middle of lunch, Lauren's invited Edward over to study for French, and Jess has half-asked him to prom. Angela mentioned that she was going to see a movie in Seattle with Ben and the boys on the weekend – so she'd probably see him there.

I can see exactly how pathetic and petty I am being by ignoring someone I truly care for. I just can't reconcile the rational part of my brain with the part that screams _I need help, I want help; I don't need to talk, why can't someone see how bad this is; why won't everyone stop asking me if I'm all right; it's none of their business. I'm fine. I'm okay. I'm so fucked._

I get out of the cafeteria as fast as I can when the bell rings, and fumble with my schedule when I try to see what my next class is. I take a deep breath, _be calm Bella_, and head to D Block. I get to my classroom and find out that I read the schedule wrong. _Fuuuck._ When I get to the right one, I'm late.

I trip over the Biology classroom threshold. Great. And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I get assigned to sit next to Edward Cullen.

He looks happy to see me as I walk over to our desk; almost as though he's going to give me a hug. Maybe he thinks that I'll go back to normal when it's just the two of us. I can't deal with hugs.

"Hey, Bella," Edward greets warmly as I take my seat, his hair falling over his strange eyes.

"Hey," I mumble back softly. The weird tingling feeling between us is back. "Um, so, about what happened at lunch –"

I'm cut off by our biology teacher, Mr. Banner, who introduces himself to the class and gives a run down of what we'll be learning this semester. I need to let Edward know what's going on, and give him a reason why I'm acting so stupidly, but I also want to hear what my teacher has to say. Before I knew I was seated next to _Mr. I Make Love To You Every Summer_, I was anticipating on this class being one I would actually enjoy.

Mr. Banner gives us a pop quiz straight away, just to see what type of stuff we know already about our first topic, "Cells". This means I have to shut up for the moment.

The quiz totally freaks my brain out – which means I'm thinking in gibberish for the next half an hour because sitting next to Edward has already got me wired. We've never really studied cells before – I mean, I can name the parts of one, like "nucleus", but that's it.

And what does our bio teacher inquire of us?

_1. What does a eukaryotic cell have that a prokaryotic cell does not?_

Just let me grab my keys and drive home, thanks.

The test is eventually over, and the bell rings. Although I need to speak with Edward, I'm kinda glad that I can leave. The strange sparks I feel from him are entirely too familiar: it usually leads to us intertwining legs in fresh cream-colored sheets. There's the part of me that needs him, that wants him – and then there's the other part that's too afraid, that has been tainted by Phil, that kept us quiet last summer.

I get up to go when_ The Handmaid's Tale/Braceface _snickers at me from the front row. "We have a double period, douchebag."

Why does she have to hate on me so much? Moreover, why does she have to be in my bio class?

I sink slowly back down into my seat.

Mr. Banner calls the class to attention and announces that he's going to give us some slides of cells to identify. Mitosis, meiosis, telophase, and prophase: the works.

The class is all set up and peering away at the stupid slides when Edward asks how my first day at school was yesterday.

My throat feels dry, and my words stumble over my tongue. Edward waits patiently with an amused expression. As I speak, the amusement slips into concern.

"I can't deal with this…you…right now," I explain worriedly. "I haven't even dealt with _the incident_ properly – which Charlie keeps reminding me of. He's been hinting that I should see a shrink."

Edward interrupts me before I can finish. "The nightmares are still as bad as they were on vacation?"

His question distracts me as memories of waking up in the dark, sweating, to find Edward's strong arms cradling me, infiltrate my mind.

I nod my head a little, embarrassed by his concern. I don't like showing my weakness like that – and he had been privy to all of it. I continue to talk for fear if I don't get it out now, I never will.

"You moving here out of the blue just blew me away," I admit slowly. "I don't know what to think. I don't even know who I'm meant to be _here_ anymore. I feel like the same sad girl from last summer."

Edward looks even more concerned by this. "Bella — " he starts again in a low voice.

I can hear the pleading tone in my voice. "Can we just pretend that we don't screw around every vacation? That we don't know each other?"

"Screw around?" Edward's eyes narrow. I think I've hurt him. "Is that what we do?"

I close my eyes and curse inwardly. It's not what we do at all. We make love and talk as though it hasn't been a year since we've seen our best friend.

"Edward, I'm sorry, that was rude of me- "

Edward cuts me off. In a second's passing, he seems to totally understand. I hate it when he does that. "You should deal with the Phil stuff soon," he replies, his eyebrows raised to emphasize his unease. He places a comforting hand on top of mine. I feel like I've been zapped by something electrical and faulty. "I want to be your _friend_. I miss you."

I know that Edward's right. I should do something about the nightmares and the thoughts. But if I do see a shrink or whatever then I'll have to think about _the incident_ all the time, compared to the brief flashes when someone comes up behind me or taps me on the shoulder. I'm fairly certain that it's not normal to be so afraid and tormented when you've been assaulted. I mean, it's like Lauren had said, it's not as if I was raped – _that_ would be something to have nightmares about.

I ignore the voice in my head that replies to Edward, _I miss you too. _My thought processes feel more complex than these cell phases. "Okay, I'll deal with it. Whatever. Pass me a slide."

Edward sighs, but hands me the next slide, nonetheless.

The next two weeks pass in much the same style. Jess and Lauren's eyes slowly shrink to jealous little slits as Edward always makes the effort to pull me into conversation when he sits with us at lunch. My second detention is a blur. In English, Alice and I trade homework notes when one of us forgot to do them the night before, or couldn't be bothered. In biology, Edward leeches onto the idea that maybe if I talk to him about all my problems, I'll be able to accept and deal with _the incident_ in my own way. The idea is sucked dry of its sweet, well-intentioned life by the end of the second week. Edward tried to get me to talk about how it made me feel as I filled up a test tube with water from the high-pressure tap. _Breath hot on my face as Phil's hands reach down_ resulted in a trip to the school nurse as the glass shards stuck into my palm. Edward apologized a million times as I tried not to faint from the rusty, sickening smell – or utter embarrassment. He was making such a scene, and it's not like I was dying or anything, so I snapped at him to back off and stop making a big deal out of nothing. He dropped it after that.

It's obvious that talking to someone I'm close to isn't going to work.

On Thursday, during P.E, I overhear Eric Yorkie talking to Tyler about Lauren's party on Friday night. Eric says he's pretty excited to underage drink – his older sister's going to buy him some beers. Tyler seems keen too – he's gonna _tap some ass_. I would blame the sinking disappointment that spilled inside of me as the reason I didn't see the volleyball come my way and hit my head, but it was probably just my lame reflexes and lack of good peripheral vision. I think that the stupid volleyball sucker-punching me is a good analogy for Lauren's move. I guess I'll have to give Lauren back that _friends forever_ necklace she gave me in year nine for my birthday. It had turned green after I showered with it on, anyways.

For once in my life, I'm glad that I have a part-time job; it takes my mind off things. My weekly shifts at _Newton's Outfitters_. _Newton's_ is a camping supplies store owned by Mike's parents. My first shift for the week is with Mike, after school on Friday afternoon.

My black, button-up work shirt smells like fresh laundry. It's one of my favourite scents – it's such a different type of wet than the cold and dirty Forks rain. I'm dwelling on this mundane thought as I'm scanning our shelves of knives and electrical goods – it's my turn to do stock take. I'm standing on the fourth rung of the store's ladder, trying to be extra cautious. It's my first encounter with a ladder since Alice's weird warning, and I'm taking my chances, knowing my luck – or unbelievable lack thereof.

I'm glad I'm doing the stock take on my own. Mike was harping on and on about Jess while we cleaned the windows. Apparently, she was angry at him. When I asked why, he said that Jessica had just replied with, "You know why." Poor Mike. I was as oblivious as he was to his blunder – although it probably had something to do with him staring down a freshman's top that afternoon in the parking lot. For some reason, Jess found Mike's tendency to be really fucking annoying very endearing, so it probably wasn't his monologue about a new thriller called _Arm Twist_ that bugged her.

The scanner _bleeps_ as I whish it the six-in-one pocketknife that's on sale, just as the rusty Newton's door is jostled open.

_Time to put a smile on, you have a customer!_

Emmett Cullen struts into the store, followed by Edward. I half expect Emmett to tackle me put to the ground until I laughingly cry _mercy_, but he seems to be on a mission to buy some camping supplies. He goes straight up to Mike and inquires about a new set of tent pegs. Emmett is a complete outdoorsman and knows his shit. He just finished an accelerated construction apprenticeship last year. It makes me wonder whether he's gotten a job in town.

Edward wanders over, which is _not cool_. I step down from the ladder, my ponytail bobbing up and down, and busy myself with scanning a can on mosquito repellent spray. I pretend that it's taking up all of my concentration.

"I didn't know you worked here," Edward comments idly from behind me.

"Stop stalking me, Edward," I reply tersely, and brush a stray piece of hair back behind my ear.

I spin around to find Edward up in my face. He places a comforting hand on my upper arm.

"Bella, what's going on?" Edward asks, his eyes locked on mine. "I'm really worried about you."

I falter, completely caught off guard. I owe him my honesty. I blurt it all out as if I'm Hamlet chucking out a monologue about slings and arrows.

"I need to deal with _the incident_, but I don't know _how_. Talking to you and Charlie and Renee doesn't work. My friends think I'm awesome because I tried to get an older guy; they don't understand. Even the school counsellor was a dead end; he didn't offer me any advice, like he couldn't be impartial or whatever. You…you're a part of my life that I _love_, the only part these past couple of months that's felt right…I'm already fucked up in the head. I just don't want to fuck over what we have during the summer. I need it too much."

Edward takes a moment to comprehend all that I've just said. I hear Mike and Emmett laugh from across the store.

Edward pulls me into a hug, and to my complete mortification, I almost burst into tears.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," I choke in a low voice as Edward brushes his strong hands down my back. "He didn't even _touch me_ touch me, but it scares the living shit out of me –"

Edward pulls out of our hug, and I stop. I vaguely hear Mike walking over to me, asking about the policy on refundable goods, the squeakiness of his shoes denoting how close he is – he's one aisle away. But all I can hear is Edward breathing. All I can feel is the tears at the back of my throat, and Edward's strong, warm hand cupping the right side of my face.

Edward kisses me on the lips. Warm, soft, sweet, safe. It feels no different from the summer. His lips are smooth and sure as they press against mine. I move my head and part my lips as his hot tongue slips inside. I instinctively move closer as Edward wraps a supportive arm around my waist. I close my eyes, leaning against his chest, as Edward breaks our kiss. I step backwards, unsteady with the question _what just happened here?_ I wince as my head hits the side of the stupid ladder.

"I'll help you," Edward says in a breathy, confident voice, coming closer to me and leaning against the ladder as Mike drops a box of tent pegs behind us in shock.

...

_Edward falls asleep next to me, curled up on the foldout lounge in mom and I's cabin. The low afternoon sun acts like a blanket. I feel foolish and lazy, stuffed from our afternoon feast of fish and chips, but not enough to crash like Edward has. My one-piece black-with-pink-spots swimsuit feels a little tighter than it did before lunch, so I'm kinda glad we aren't fooling around. Edward's pale, skinny arm is hanging across my body._

_We're fifteen, but when, later, Renee walks in on us entangled and sandy, she doesn't go all strict like Charlie probably would. I meet her brown gaze, to which mine is scarily identical, and we share a goofy smile once she sees that I've gotten out my pack of textas and drawn a purple moustache above Edward's lips. She's more of sister than a mother, really, but I don't mind that too much. She closes the creaky caravan door as the sun begins to slip out of the ocean-blue sky._

_I start to feel tired. I twist around and give Edward, who is snoring, a kiss on his sunburnt lips._

_He tastes like whiting and chicken salt._

_

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_

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews! Is it kind of mean that I left you on a slight cliff-hanger?


	4. Howling Wind

**Howling Wind**

**A/N:** Thanks so much to the angel that is **Kisbydog** who beta'd this chapter for me. (Check out her fab twific _As Long As You're Mine_!) Thank you to **ttharman** and **twilightheaded **for being awesome reviewers! Soundtrack to this chapter: _Crucify _by Tori Amos. I strongly recommend reading _S_ in the 1/2 view. If you're on twitter, follow me: "lilmissmionie" - I tend to post teasers there!

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_I didn't think once of Phil when I kissed Edward._

This is the first rational and well-processed thought that my brain churns out as I drive home.

I try not to analyze what that means and fail miserably. It consumes my whole weekend. It's not like Edward could be the key to accepting and getting over the incident – I had trouble at the start of our previous vacation with touching his hand and kissing him. Besides, that would be the stuff of fairytales, or an inexperienced teenager's musings. Could it be a sign that I was getting closer to getting past it all? Maybe I'd been wrong, and Edward's incessant nagging had done some good.

Or maybe _not_.

Even though my life relates to nothing in _Sense and Sensibility_, my mind manages to still find connections as I attempt to distract myself over the weekend.

Charlie comes home late on Friday. It's not until we're halfway through our dinner of lemon chicken, vegetables and rice that he tentatively opens conversation with the admission, "I heard you and that Edward Cullen kid…uhh, kissed at work today."

Mrs Newton, Mike's gossip-whore mom, told Mrs Blah blah blah who came into the police station to report some graffiti defacing her mailbox, and w_hatdoyouknow_, my dad knows I made out with Edward.

Charlie seems pretty relaxed about it – he's met Edward a few times when he's dropped me off or picked me up from vacation. The Cullens have known my parents since before they had broken up, but life got in the way, and it took years for our two families to reunite.

"You know the Cullens have moved here, right?" Charlie spends most of his time at the station, in the cruiser, or at La Push fishing. He doesn't usually get gossip that fast.

Charlie looks at me as though he questions the state of my mental health. "We've talked about them, Bella," he says quietly as he stabs another piece of chicken. Charlie's not big on rice, but he'll eat anything that once had a ticking heart. "Remember, Esme got a council architectural job here, so they all moved? Carlisle was real lucky to find a job at the hospital, there's been quite a number of doctors moving here in the last couple of years."

"We have?" I'm so confused. I didn't even know Charlie knew the Cullens were in town. _Fuck._ Have I been blacking out, or completely blocking conversations from my mind for the past three weeks? Why the hell would I not remember talking about Edward?

Charlie edges around the topic of _the incident_. I tell him I'm working on a way to get through it and that I think I'm close. Charlie looks at me with sad, brown eyes. He goes to say something heartfelt in reply, but instead clears his throat. He washes the dishes for the night and lets me watch whatever I want on TV, despite the fact that it's semi-finals night on channel five.

I tell him that I love him and promise to make something involving fish for dinner tomorrow night.

I can't decide whether to talk to Edward or not when I get back to school. Finally, I decide to just talk to him if he wants to in biology, which is on Tuesday.

I get to school on Monday morning, step out of my truck, and I'm immediately assaulted with people shouting things at me and whispering things about me.

I race to English, absolutely anguished and embarrassed. Apparently Edward and I did it doggie style in the back of Newton's store. No, wait, I gave him head in the back of his shiny Volvo. Then Mike took me for a ride. The nicest rumor is that I made out with Edward for an hour.

I'm going to kill Mike Newton. I'm going to march right up to him and beat the shit out of him.

I get to English. Mike is sitting up the back, and when I enter, he and his mates laugh loudly. I don't kill him, and I don't beat him up. I stalk over to my seat in the front row and close my eyes as my school bag falls down with a dull _thump_ onto the floor.

I look over at my English buddy who greets me with a tentative smile. She coaxes me into conversation.

Alice looks like she didn't get much sleep the night before. Her mom got really angry because Alice didn't tell her she was going to the diner for a study break. Alice was already studying in the third week of school and wanted a break – but it caused she and her mom to fight all night. Alice's mom came from a broken home with no money, and _only wants the best_ for her daughter. I think Mrs Brandon has lost sight of something in her life and is determined that her daughter has to _be_ the best. At least, that's what Angela told me once.

I guess Charlie's pretty lax with my eleven-thirty curfew and his need-to-know-basis attitude to parenting. Alice lets me copy the answers down from our homework. I look at her with glassy-eyed wonder.

"I'll get Charlie to give you a college personal reference," I say, and I mean it. "All the college reps say who gives you a reference doesn't matter, but having a chief of police on your application will definitely put you in good stead."

Alice has to wait a moment before her voice cooperates with her brain. I'm almost thrown off my chair as she pulls me into a tight hug. "Thank you, Bella, thank you!"

Someone behind us coughs _Lesbians!_ I wave my extended middle finger in their general direction as I explain to Alice, "I owe you, majorly. You have shit going on and still manage to function."

Alice doesn't appear to have heard me. "Ohmygod, my mom will love me for this! She wants me to get into a college like Dartmouth or whatever."

"Wow," I reply, interested. "What do you want to study?"

"Something to do with linguistics, or philosophy. College is probably the one thing in my life where my mom doesn't care what I do. She's just happy I want to go. No one in my family's ever been there!"

"Neither of your parents went to college?"

"Nah, dad just did a vocational course to get into real estate, and mom got her job through knowing people. My older sister has rebelled and is in art school at the moment. Of course, Cynthia could do no wrong in mom's eyes."

Alice's voice turns bitter when she mentions her sister. I had no idea that some parents played favorites – and besides, isn't it usually the baby of the family who gets away with murder? Anyways, I'm impressed that Alice already knows what she wants to do. I like the idea of college, but I'm still not sure of what I'd like to study. I like to read, but I'd never be good enough to be an English teacher. The same applies for most of the science-related courses I've checked out.

"Well, you're definitely great at English, so linguistics sounds right up your alley," I reply encouragingly. Then, something clicks in my brain. "Holy shit, Alice, your premonition thing came true!"

Alice's face is painted with a puzzled look.

"You told me, like, two weeks ago to watch out for ladders!" I exclaim excitedly. "And on Friday I kissed Edward and whacked my head on the store ladder, which lead to Mike seeing us and spreading it around school! Are you psychic, or something? Secretly Wiccan?"

Alice gasps. "So it _is_ true, you did make out with Edward Cullen at Newton's store?"

I bit my lip, not willing to talk about it. "Um, yes – but that's not the point!"

I think Alice senses my unease about the topic, because she latches on to the other idea I voiced. "My mom would try to crucify me if I practiced magic," she says with amusement. "But I have always…_known_ things. I just put it down to being very intuitive."

"It's really cool, Alice. You should do something with a gift like that." I say earnestly.

"What, become a superhero?" Alice snorts, and we dissolve into laughter. Our English teacher decides to enter stage left at this point and threaten us with detention if we don't shut up and get out our copies of King Lear. I wish he would do us all a favour and _exeunt_.

Lunch comes too quickly. When I reach my table with my lunch tray in hand, I find Jess and Angela eyeing me warily. Lauren looks at me as though I've pulled out her hair extensions.

"So, I heard you and Cullen fucked on Friday," she announces viciously. She says it so loud that half the people in the cafeteria turn around.

_Pass the popcorn, and get one of those choc-tops, will you? It's the Exorcism of Isabella Swan._

"We didn't _fuck_, Lauren," I reply in a hushed voice. "We just kissed."

Lauren doesn't match my volume. "Whatever, slut. You think because you can get with your mom's boyfriend that you can just take whatever you want?"

_His hands won't let up from their grip around my shoulders -  
_

"It was _obvious_ that he had a thing for Lauren," Jess interjects in a snippy voice. She's probably substituting _Lauren_ for _me_ in her head, but whatever. She's enjoying the show.

"Friends don't steal, Isabella," Lauren adds, her voice hard. I look to Angela for support, but she turns away, and my heart breaks at the gesture.

"Friends don't tell friend's secrets to the entire school, either, Lauren!" I snap back, angry tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. _I scream, but he won't let go _and I'm shaking with the force of the release of my once-suppressed rage.

Lauren smirks. "You've been wanting to say that for ages, haven't you, sweetie? Well, don't worry your ugly little head anymore. We're not friends anymore. You don't talk to us, you don't sit with us."

I feel like ripping Lauren's stupid mouth off.

"Bye-bye, Isabella," Lauren coos with a little wave of her fingers. Jess laughs loudly, and some guys from across the room yell out,_ Owned! Slut!_

I turn away, my heart heavy with humiliation and regret and anger. I walk away from the table fast, keen to drop my tray in the trash and leave campus.

Someone blocks my path, and I try to manoeuvre my way around them.

"Just fuck _off_," I plead.

"No, Bella." Alice's voice comes from in front of me. I raise my head to see her looking at me determinedly.

"You walk out of here, and they win, Bella. Come sit with me. Show them that you don't need them."

I know in an instant that she's right. She leads me over to her smaller table, which is in the far corner of the cafeteria. I can hear Lauren snicker from across the room.

I sit so that I'm not facing my ex-friends. Alice surveys me, the ferocious look still in her blue eyes.

"Thanks," I mumble, trying to unconsciously wipe away my stupid tears.

Alice pulls out a chocolate bar from her canvas bag, undoes the wrapper, and takes a small bite. I stare at my dull Caesar salad morosely as she replies.

"I owe you. That college thing will be awesome. And besides…you're the first person in a long time to treat me like I'm normal."

I feel like crying again at her words. "That sucks so much, Alice."

Alice gives me a small smile. "I suppose it does."

"I'll tell Charlie about the reference tonight. Anything for a friend."

Alice's eyes are wide. "Friend?" she repeats in a tiny voice.

"Yes. I think you'll be a much better one than they ever were. Your intuition was right about them too."

"…Is Edward Cullen your friend?"

"Why?" I question, frowning.

"He's basically staring at you from across the room."

"O-Oh."

"Do you know him that well?"

I pause for a moment. _She's my friend._ _I can let her in._ "Yes, I do. We met a couple of years ago in Florida…"

Hours later, Jacob Black is tapping a tune out with his large fingers on our marble kitchen bench. He and his dad Billy are over for dinner. Jake goes to the high school over on the Quileute reservation, and is a bit younger than me – although you wouldn't know it from his height. He's like a handsomer version of the BFG.

"Helter Skelter, The Beatles?" I guess as the tune he's teasing me with. Jacob looks at me in mock-disgust.

"God, no." He shudders.

I cry out in exasperation and turn back to making the salad. "I give up."

Jacob stops tapping and rolls his eyes, grinning. "Well, you're no fun."

I stick my tongue out at him in jest. "Cut the tomatoes, will you?"

Jacob pulls a face before grabbing a knife and two tomatoes from beside the green chopping board I'm using.

"It looks like my dream catcher hasn't done much good," Jacob comments after a moment, frowning at me.

I sigh. "Not really, no. But it does look cute above my bed."

"Hmmm. Bells, has the not-sleeping got anything to with Mallory, Stanley and Weber being bitches about you kissing that Cullen guy?"

I almost chop my finger off instead of slicing the purple onion. "People on the _rez_ know about that?"

Jacob nods in reply.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"Amen to that, sister," Jake jokes. His face falls a little when he sees I'm not laughing.

"Cullen…he's your summerboy, right? The guy from Florida?" he asks slowly, as if unsure he should be asking it in the first place.

I quirk an eyebrow. "Summerboy? Um, yes, he is."

"Have you spoken to him since you made out with him?"

I sigh testily. "We are not going down that path, Jacob Black."

Jacob rolls his eyes in reply before his trademark sunny grin adorns his face once more. "Is he being nice to you?" he questions anyway.

"He's like a skinnier version of you, let's put it that way. We haven't spoken…yet."

"But you plan to?"

"Yes. Maybe. Probably. We have bio together. He's…as nice as you are to me, Jake."

"Oh, well, good. I guess I don't have to beat anybody up then."

Jacob slides the tomato slices onto the bed of lettuce.

"You could beat up Mike Newton if you like," I mutter darkly.

"Oooh, sounds tempting."

Charlie and Billy herald my smoked salmon pizzas as the best in the region. Half the salad is left untouched, typically. I spend the rest of the night tormenting Jacob by taking photos of him with the camera Renee got me a couple of birthdays ago; Jacob's super shy when it comes to having his picture taken. His beautiful copper skin even goes pink when I tell him to _strike a pose_. Photography is more of a hobby than something I'd consider as a career, but I love taking photos. I teach Jacob how to frame a shot, even though he ends up totally sucking. Jacob even manages to screw up my shutter speed settings. We talk about what happened at school, and he tells me that Alice seems nice. He likes the idea that she can see the future.

Jacob and Billy end up going home at ten, and so I stay up until twelve-thirty finishing my English homework. I eventually decide to just lie and say I read chapter thirteen of my modern history textbook. My teacher isn't checking the source questions until Thursday.

I don't have nightmares when I go to sleep, but I lucid dream. When I wake up at seven-thirty it feels as though I haven't slept much at all.

I don't want to get out of bed; I don't want to have to face Lauren and Jess and Angela. However, Alice promised me she'd put some new songs on my iPod if I gave it to her at school – and I need something more to listen to besides eighties crap. I can't just ditch her because I don't feel like going.

I decide to be brave. I get out of bed and open my wardrobe, prepared to not dress as Forks-Bella-Swan, but just _me_.

I look at the time and freak out. I have ten minutes to get to homeroom. I forget about dressing myself like myself, or wearing something to show Lauren and Jess and Angela that I'm still awesome without them. (Was I ever awesome?) I put on some jeans and a white sweater, shove my make-up in my bag, and race out the door.

I'm five minutes late to homeroom, and my teacher threatens me with detention if I keep up my tardiness. I'm ready to go to P.E. when I remember that I have a theory lesson today and need my textbook – which is sitting on the passenger seat of my chevy. Mike, bizarrely but kindly, offers to explain my absence to Coach Clapp. He loves Mike, and will let me off the hook. I get Newton's trying to make up for the disaster that he caused yesterday.

I snatch the book out of my car, and seize the chance to at least put my haphazard hair back off my face so that I resemble something other than the girl from _The Ring_. I sigh as I part my hair in the middle, using my dirty window as a mirror. I pull my hair up into a ponytail and put on a thin black headband. I didn't bring any make up, so the blackheads on my chin are visible for the whole world to see.

I look at my reflection in the window and realize that I don't know this scared, withdrawn girl who stares back at me with dark-circled eyes. The girl who has lost her friends, her confidence, and the respect of her teachers. This isn't the Bella you'll find in any of our photo albums.

This isn't the _me_ that I hoped for when I woke up this morning, but she'll have to do. It doesn't look like she's leaving anytime soon.

...

_We are sixteen. Emmett places his hands on his hips and looks towards the far right as I yell, "Strike a pose! Pout for me, baby!"_

_Edward and I are beside ourselves with laughter. I can't even hold the camera steady as we are sitting on the large rock. Emmett is still holding his pose, but I can see a smile jumping at the corner of his mouth._

_A passerby looks at us as though we're crazy. She gives Emmett, who is posing in only his red swim trunks, an even odder look._

"_He's too sexy for his shirt," Edward tells the random woman in all seriousness. She walks away quickly, and I get a stitch from laughing so hard._

_I finally take the picture. We all look it at on the playback screen. It's totally blurry._

"_Nice, Bella," Edward teases. "You should become a photographer or something."_

_I cry out in indignation and tackle Edward to the ground. I tickle him mercilessly. He screams out for me to stop, and looks to Emmett for help. Emmett holds Edward's arms down so that I'm unstoppable._

_We arrive at the tennis court of the caravan park, where our parents are waiting, fifteen minutes late. Renee doesn't care, and Phil teases us about why we three are so late. Esme and Carlisle laugh at our appearance._

_I have grass in my hair and my knees are stained with dirt, but I couldn't care less. Edward is worth it._


	5. Lightning Strike

**Lightning Strike**

**A/N:** Thanks to **Christi** and **ttharman** for putting Summerboy into The Fictionator's Pwns of the Week! Thank you to **kisbydog** who beta'd this chapter for me.

* * *

_Hey, do u have ur bio text at school? _

This delightful text from an unknown number stops me from pressing the _start_ button on the toaster. I put down my phone and press the red button. As my breakfast starts toasting, I reply after much deliberation. I hope it's not _Forks Number One Feminist_ trying to get her daily payout in before school even starts. I was hoping that Tuesday would be uneventful.

_Who's this?_ I send back, leaning on the counter. My message ring tone sounds after ten seconds, and the stranger's reply pops up on the screen.

_Edward._

I freeze. _Fuuuuuuck. Just play it cool, Bella._ I even wait a good two minutes before replying so that it seems like I'm not all that interested in the conversation – like I'm doing something else far more important. I get the butter out of the fridge as my toast pops up. I nervously reply.

_How did you get my number?_

Edward's not worried about seeming too keen. His text comes back quickly._ I stole it out of Lauren's cell._

Oh, so I guess their "study session" yesterday afternoon went well. I attempt to swallow my jealous feelings and nonchalantly text, _I have my textbook in my locker. Why?_

_Mine met an untimely death from all the fucking rain. What u up to?  
_  
I don't want to make pleasant conversation with Edward via text message. I reply, saying I'll bring my textbook today. We're going to have a sub because Mr Banner's sick, so it's note copying for us in our double lesson. We'll have to share.

I finish buttering my wholegrain toast in preoccupied silence. I spend more time chewing my lip in anxiety than I do eating my breakfast.

I also save his number in my contacts before I wig out.

I wait at my desk in biology, second period, with anxiety rising like bile in my throat. Edward walks in wearing a long-sleeved blue shirt that accentuates his lean muscles. Tyler, who is walking with him, pales in comparison. Edward's one of the few guys in our year who doesn't look like a gangly fifteen year old.

I attach my gaze to the desk, pretending that I wasn't totally checking out Edward. He sits down next to me, and I lift my eyes to watch him.

"Oh, hey, you bought the textbook," Edward notices happily, as his gaze locks with mine. "Thanks."

He has such weird eyes. They're kinda cool though, the colour goes all transparent in the sun._ Holy shit, Bella, stop staring._

"…No problem," I answer so belatedly that it's awkward. I finally remember to stop being such a freak and tear my gaze away. The sub turns up and starts giving our class directions on how to take notes from Chapter Five, _Recombinant DNA_. No one listens.

I open up the book for show and begin drawing random patterns in my notebook and colouring in some letters in my headings. I then progress onto sucking the end of my pen while I run through a list of all my unfinished homework in my head. The two of us are silent for around five minutes. Edward even copies down some notes from possibly the most wankiest subject in bio - biotechnology. Ew.

"How are you liking the rain?" Edward inquires finally, setting down his pen in the spine of his notebook with a sigh. He leans towards me. His proximity is electric.

"You're talking to me about the weather?" I remark bewilderedly.

Edward rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "I suppose I am. How are you?"

I cock my eyebrow at him, and slowly pull the pen from between my lips. It's gross and slick with spit. Edward seems annoyed by the action. I don't respond to his lame attempt at conversation, and turn away from him, inspecting the teeth marks on the end of my blue biro. Edward tells me it's rude to ignore people.

I ignore that remark, too. I have no idea why I'm being so rude to him, but the logical part of my brain whispers that it's something to do with his over-friendliness and the kiss we shared last week.

Edward goes silent for a moment before speaking up. "Are you okay after everything that happened yesterday? I know that the…fight…was sort of about me."

That comment gets me aggravated enough to speak. I can't keep the jealous, bitter tone out of my voice as I look at his handsome face. "I was ruining their stellar rep, anyways. I guess Lauren told you that during your _French lesson_?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Edward's voice takes on a sudden defensive edge.

"Well, you obviously got along with her well enough to get her number," I point out scathingly.

Edward makes an infuriated noise. He speaks to me slowly, as if I'm mentally handicapped or something. "Bella, I went through her phone to get your number, since you never gave it to me."

"So I'm the bad guy in this scenario?" I snap. My pen's long forgotten, having fallen out of my grasp.

Edward's fingers clench around the edge of his notebook so hard that his knuckles go white. I've really pissed him off. Good. He's being so fucking…rude to me.

Okay, I know he's _not_, but he's annoying the hell out of me with his incessant nagging. Hasn't he ever heard of _privacy_?

"No," Edward replies stiffly. "You aren't. Look, I thought you understood on Friday that I meant what I said. I want to _help_ you."

"What if I don't want your help?" I ask, my voice rising slightly as I glare at him. I don't like to appear weak.

Edward replies, and it's as if those pale eyes can see right into my soul.

"You want someone to help you so badly, Bella. You've always been a terrible liar and a bad actress. I just can't believe no one else can see how much you're hurting. All they can see is how _you're_ affecting _them_."

I stare at him in shock. In an instant, my anger is replaced by fear. I feel small, like a child. The instinctual need to feel loved and understood lodges in the back of my throat and threatens to make tears fall from my eyes.

Edward fumbles around in his jeans pocket. He retrieves a piece of crumpled paper. He unfurls it and holds it between his thumb and forefinger.

"This is the number of the Forks Abuse Program – they offer support groups for people who've dealt with sexual assault. You should give them a call. I figured it would be a good idea since you haven't been able to speak to anyone you know heaps well."

I'm touched by his action, but also afraid. A support group? Where you get up and tell strangers what happened? I can barely admit to myself what happened with Phil. What if they have worse stories and I realise I have nothing to complain about?

"Take it," Edward encourages. I freak out, and shake my head. I can't even force the words out of my pathetic mouth.

Edward's face falls, and he pouts, as though this is a situation he can be funny in. "Please?"

"N-No, thanks."

"Bella, people there would understand what you're going through. They wouldn't judge you. They can probably give you better advice than anyone else."

I open my mouth, about to respond. Edward can see that he's gotten through to me – that he's won. His thin lips melt into a small smile.

"You know, your lips part in that same way when you orgasm," he says in a low voice, leaning closer to me.

I snap out of whatever emotionally tumultuous vortex I'd been lost in. That cocky sentimental _bastard_!

"Give me the damn piece of paper, Edward," I growl.

Five minutes later, we get yelled at by the sub. Edward had taunted me with the piece of paper – I ended up falling off my chair and hitting my head on the desk in an attempt to reach it. Edward had burst into laughter.

He gives it to me when the bell rings, raising a hand to his head and saluting goodbye as I glower in his wake.

At lunch, I tell Alice what happened in Bio. It's sort of sunny, so we're sitting on the outside playground tables - far away from the girls' bitchy comments.

"Do you want to go?" Alice questions about the program.

"I don't know. What do you think I should do?"

Alice thinks about this for a while, before answering slowly, "Whatever feels right; just go with your instincts."

_That's just the answer I was looking for. Not.  
_  
"Can you just have one of your _feelings_ and tell me if I go or not?" I whine. Alice laughs in reply.

"You know, Edward sounds too good to be true. He seems too nice and caring towards you. What teenage boy who you've only seen every summer goes out of their way to help you like that? It's…weird. Not your average boy behaviour. "

I snort. "Oh, trust me," I reassure her in a dry tone, "he can be as selfish and arrogant as Lauren can when the mood strikes him. He also has a habit of thinking he's right."

Alice's lips curl upward. "I guess you both have that in common, huh?"

I stick my tongue out at her childishly. Alice thinks that Edward and I are destined to be together, and that by fighting with him, I'm pushing away the inevitable. I don't know whether to hope she's right or wrong.

We talk about random stuff until the end of lunch. Alice has her strange vision-moment where she spaces out and tells me, "Don't let…the lipstick…get you down?" We ponder what her feeling could mean – maybe I'm going to buy an atrocious shade of Revlon in the near future.

My class watches the first forty-five minutes of _Dances With Wolves _in Modern History. I have to go to the bathroom in fifth period. I enter the bathroom, where two senior girls are laughing about something. I envy their height and confidence – I wonder if I'll look that adult-like in a year's time. They stop when I enter and share a look. As I close my cubicle door, I see one of the girls rummaging through a make up bag.

When I get out, the seniors have already left. But they've kindly left something for me.

The word _SKANK_ is scrawled across the dirty mirror. The garish pink hue looks almost obscene in the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom.

My first reaction is _who the fuck wears lipstick to school?_ My second is the sudden impulse to smash the mirror with my bare hands. I've never even talked to those girls before – and they're older than me! How could they be so…mean?

Are they waiting outside the bathroom to laugh at me?

Alice's warning of _don't let the lipstick get you down_ circles in my head. I remind myself to take Alice to a psychic expo one day. She'd go nuts.

I hide in the bathroom for the rest of the period. I do let the message on the mirror get me down. I look at the stupid piece of paper Edward gave me the whole time. I dial the number half a dozen times, but never hit the call button.

Maybe I'll ask Charlie first and see what he thinks. Maybe there, people will understand. Maybe I'll go.

The rest of the day passes me by as I preoccupy myself with weighing the pros and cons of going to a support group. I wonder if people fake it and get addicted to a group like in _Fight Club_. I wonder if I'll know anybody there. I hope I won't have to go into detail about what happened. I wonder why Edward gives such a shit about my emotional well-being.

Finally, I decide I just don't have enough information. When I get home from school, I start up my Mac laptop and type "Forks Abuse Program" into the search engine.

Ten seconds later, I find that they have their own website. It's pretty cool. I click on "Support Groups" and read all the info. I find out that I have to ring up and verify I'm suitable for the group that deals with sexual assault. I guess there won't be any _Marla's_ in the Forks Abuse Program. I don't click on any of the other links like "resources". Before I told Renee what happened, I tried to Google information about assault and violence and what to do – government pages advising women how to delete their internet history just in case frightened and saddened me so much I ended up shutting down my computer for a week.

I print out all the information and give it to Charlie when he comes home from work. He looks at me like I've just bought him tickets to the rugby World Cup. He says that it sounds like a great idea, and seems even more surprised when I tell him that Edward told me about it.

I guess I haven't been looking so stable in Charlie's eyes. I'm so tired from staring at my computer screen for two hours, plus the day's events, that I can't be fucked to make dinner. I grab two tins of tomato soup out of the cupboard and tell Charlie to read the instructions on the labels – that's the height of his culinary skill. He grabs a saucepan; at least he knows what kitchen implement to use. I tell him to add milk to the mix to make it creamier and go lie down on the lounge, closing my eyes.

I block out the voice that says _you have algebra homework due tomorrow_. Dinner is a quiet affair, and I return to the couch to laze around afterwards. I slip into a doze. It takes me a while to come back to conscious, but when I do, I can hear Charlie talking. He's on the phone.

"Damnit, Renee. Why didn't I think of this? She never wanted to talk about it with any of us. Why didn't we come to this conclusion? A _seventeen year old_ figured it out."

My mom says something, and Charlie sounds impatient as he replies, "I know he's a good kid, Renee. No, I'm not _blaming_ you – I'm not – for God's sakes, Renee, I don't want to talk about _that man_ –"

I jump up from the couch and run up to my room, slamming the door. It's a reflex reaction. It stresses the hell out of me to hear my parents fight, especially about Phil. My parents are pretty good to each other, unlike a lot of divorced couples I know. Lauren's parents had a terrible custody battle. Knowing this doesn't make it any easier to hear them, though. At least I can't hear what Renee is saying. She usually says something pretty shit which makes me ignore her for a week.

At ten o'clock, I creep downstairs to see my dad watching the news. I tell him that I'm going to call the program tomorrow. They hold meetings every Wednesday, so I'll probably go to the next one, which is tomorrow.

I tell him not to worry about me. Charlie responds gruffly, "Can't help it, Bells. You're my daughter."

I feel uncomfortable as he looks at me. "Um, I'm just going to finish up my homework and then go to bed, 'kay?"

Charlie takes a long drink from his beer. "All right. Don't stay up too late."

I finish half of the algebra formulas without a calculator. At a quarter to twelve, I give up challenging my brain and copy out the answers from the back of the textbook. I don't know why anyone felt as though writing a quotient as a product would be fantastic idea. No one gives a shit what _a_ over _x_ equals (although my calculator cares enough to tell me it's _one_.)

I stay awake until three playing solitaire on my computer. It makes me think of the time Edward and I played strip solitaire, which was his idea because I suck at poker. I'm reminded of his scent and his strong chest and the way he knew how to touch me. My mind flourishes with a million scenarios, where Edward touches me, kisses me, holds me, licks me, loves me. I'm reminded of the kindness he showed me today when I didn't deserve it. I'm reminded that even though he can be an ass, there's a part of me that melts when he gets that cocky grin on his face after doing something daring, or when his smile goes lopsided when he's being cute.

I should have played minesweeper.

...

"_Hey, look," Edward says, pointing at the faded graffiti along the dock's wooden floorboards. Someone has written "Edward Roolz" in red spray-paint._

_A confident, cheeky grin sweeps across Edward's handsome face. "See?" he continues as he runs up to the edge of the dock, and raises his arms. "Everyone knows I'm awesome!"_

_I give Edward an indulgent smile, and look at him from under my eyelashes. He thinks I'm turned on by his awesomeness. I stalk over to him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt like I can't get enough of him. It's the shirt his mom told him specifically not to get dirty – or wet._

_I shove Edward with all my might. He loses his footing on the dock, and with a yelp, he crashes into the murky water below. _

_He starts to resurface, spurting water from his mouth. I don't even have time to laugh._

_I leg it as fast as I can._

_

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_

**A/N:** The Forks Abuse Program is a real program in Washington, and they do have a website (www dot forksabuseprogram dot org). However, the scenes depicted in the group/the way it is run are not real depiction of what happens there – I've never been there myself. Also, in this ficverse, their meetings are held on Wednesday, not a Thursday like in RL. It seems like a truly wonderful organisation. Just a lil' disclaimer.

ANYWHO. I love hearing all of your feedback. What do you think of Edward and Bella's bio lesson? xx


	6. Storm Clouds

**Five: Storm Clouds**

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**A/N: **I've just started university, so it will probably be a two week break instead of one in between chapters for a while. Thanks to _PasticheLethe_ for betaing, and to all of my lovely reviewers. I'll be writing (posting in April) an outtake from Summerboy for **Fandom For Sexual Assault Awareness**. Please donate - those fab ladies are doing such wonderful things for a great and very relevant cause to this story. I basically know what I'm going to write - but if these any "missing moments" you'd like to see, let me know! (I will _not_ be writing the assault scene, however.) Anyways, enjoy this chapter! I strongly recommend reading it in the 1/2 view.

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School was so stupid that I don't even want to think about it. I was so drained from lack of sleep, and yet so keyed up about the support group meeting that I was going to in the afternoon, that I didn't hear a word my teachers said. My math teacher may have uttered a string of syllables that sounded like "detention", but I wasn't paying attention enough to really tell. I'm sure Ms. Cope will ring me at the house later and gleefully inform me that I missed my punishment.

_Gee, thank you, Ms Cope. I can't believe that I forgot. Silly me!_

I'm so nervous I could punch somebody. And I'm a non-violent person…most of the time.

I kill my engine as I park outside the community hall. It's not raining, which is, like, a miracle in Forks. I wait until it's four o'clock before working up the courage to walk in and find the support group. It doesn't take long.

The walls are painted in a nonchalant cream colour, and the floorboards are made from slick, polished wood. The white-framed windows don't have curtains, but they're up high so that people can't peek in. The lights in the ceiling give off a nice, warm light – not harsh fluorescents like I pictured. To the left, there is a noticeboard on the wall with brightly coloured leaflets, and up the back of the room there is a table lined with plates, cups and a large kettle.

Everyone is chatting as they sit in chairs that are arranged in a circle in the middle of the room. I wonder if it's meant to look like AA, or if people in therapy just like circles. Maybe there's some hidden, calming meaning in the formation – I'm sure Alice would know. It's mostly women a bit older than me in the room – for some reason, I'm surprised to see two men. It never occurred to me that men could be victims, too. It looks like they've come from across the Seattle as well as Forks, because there's a few people I don't recognize – and Forks has the type of population where you can place almost every single face.

The group leader, who is a lovely lady in her mid-thirties and works part-time at the grocery store, welcomes me. Her name is Carmen. She greets me warmly, calls me by my first name and asks how school is going. I answer in short sentences, but Carmen doesn't seem to mind. I nervously look around to see that most people seem at ease – they must have been coming for a while. I'm told that I don't have to speak at my first session, and I don't want to. I listen.

Everyone has terrible stories.

Some are recent victims. Some were assaulted years ago, but still value the support. Some people seem to have accepted what has happened, and can speak calmly. Two women cry when they tell their stories. A blonde woman in her early twenties speaks in a way I imagine myself to about the assault – sort of detached. She seems pretty at peace with her ordeal. She's been coming for a year. One of the men doesn't relay what happened to him, but a reoccurring nightmare he's been having involving his attacker.

These people are invited to share their thoughts and feelings about their own ordeal, but also offer advice to those that seek it. The guidance the man with the nightmares gets is pretty cool – it's not some psychoanalytical bullshit, but advice that has help from other people that have experienced the same thing.

I wonder what will happen when I tell them all what happened with Phil. Will they think I'm a poor little attention-seeker like everyone else? What if they give me advice that I don't want to hear? What if I embarrass myself, and start crying? The questions are endless, and I don't think I'll like any of the answers.

The meeting is over after an hour and a half. I tell the leader that I'll come next session. I think I might even speak up about what happened to me.

I skip out on the coffee and sweets before _his hands skimming past my underwear _reaches full hilt and begin to make my way home. A bleak dusk dusts the rooftops of Forks as I fish my keys out from the black hole in the bottom of my handbag.

I have the greatest luck ever in the world; my chevy starts making terrible sounds when I try to start my engine. Greaaat.

I put my key into the ignition, seriously annoyed. I'm about to scream at the truck I usually adore when my cell rings.

"Hello?" I answer in an irritated tone, not even bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Hey, Bella? It's Alice."

"Oh, shit. Hi, Alice. I'm sorry, my car is being a bitch and I was getting annoyed. What's up?"

"I was wondering…are you doing anything right now? Um, I know you've just finished your meeting and you probably just want to go home- "

Alice is rambling and sounds close to tears. "Do you want me to pick you up?" I ask worriedly. I know that Alice doesn't have a driving permit.

Alice sniffs. "Um, yeah, that'd be cool. My mom got really angry at me and I just don't want to be around her right now."

"Okay. I'll come pick you up. What's your address?"

Alice tells me her address, and I tell her I'll be there in ten minutes. My truck finally starts, and I call Jacob, asking if I can swing by his house so he can take a look at my engine. He's a car freak. He excitedly says yes.

I drive out to Alice's house and try to pull up quietly in case she needs to sneak out. As I pull up, I wonder at how sudden Alice and I's friendship has formed. Is Alice as nervous as I at how close we're suddenly getting? Should we set some boundaries and not spend so much time together? We only really have each other at school – what if we have a fight because we get sick of each other? Then what do we do? I've never been in this situation before, and I'm a little anxious about it.

I've always had lots of friends.

However, I put my anxiety aside from a moment and decide to go with what I know best; how to help a friend in need. I look up at her big brick house, glad to see that most of the lights are on. I prank call her, and like two seconds later, Alice creeps out over her front door's threshold.

Alice smiles weakly as she opens the passenger door and slips inside. Her face is blotchy and her stormy eyes are red.

"Hey," I greet warmly, giving her a one-armed hug before starting the car. It takes a few tries. "My car's chucking a hissy fit, so I though I'd take it to my friend Jake's place, and we can hang there for a bit. He's really nice and won't ask questions."

"Sounds cool. Thanks."

We go quiet for a while as we head further towards La Push.

"You okay?" I ask quietly.

"Mmmm. Sometimes I just need to get away from my mom, you know?"

It's obvious Alice doesn't want to talk about what happened. I change the conversation, trying to think of ways to cheer her up. Gossip always cheered up the girls. Maybe it'll work on her. "Sooo…do you like anyone?"

Alice ducks her head, a coy smile flitting on her lips as she wipes her eyes again. _Success!_ "I do, actually. His name's…Jasper."

I frown. I don't know anyone in our year named Jasper. "What year's he in?"

"He doesn't go to our school. He's twenty."

"Ohmygod, an older man! _Alice_!"

Alice giggles embarrassedly.

"Does he like you? Are you friends? Have you hooked up?" I fire at her as I indicate left while we're stopped at a set of traffic lights.

Alice looks startled. "Um, no! I don't think he really knows who I am. He works at the diner I go to."

"Oooh."

"I haven't really, um, done stuff…like you have," Alice admits before rushing on to say, "And this girl in the church youth group, Maria, went on a date with him a few months ago, and said he wasn't interested in her, but that he fingered her anyways in the back of her car. So maybe he's like a guy that just wants friends with benefits? I'd be okay with whatever he wanted…if he ever noticed me."

I almost feel like stopping the car and shaking Alice. I instead knock some sense into her verbally.

"Alice, it shouldn't be about what _he_ wants," I tell her firmly. "If you want to date him, you should try and date him. You don't know that he's not into that. I mean, I've done stuff, yes. But I've only been with one guy, really. I've made out and _done stuff_ with a few guys, but that's it. I've only ever had sex with Edward because I trust him, and he deserves me."

I think I've scared her. She looks really intimidated by what I've said. "O-Okay," she replies.

"Sorry. Did I go a bit overboard?"

"No; you're just giving Victoria Bass a run for her money."

"Who's that?"

"The crazy feminist with bad braces."

"Oh." _The Female Eunuch_ has a name. "She really hates me."

"She's an idiot. But I get what you're saying. Be all Aretha Franklin and demand _respect._ Um, so, where does your friend Jake live? We're heading out of Forks…"

"Oh, Parker Lane. On the reservation."

Alice seems wary as she asks, "He's Quileuete, then?"

"Yep."

"Are we _allowed_ on the reservation?"

I laugh; I've been friends with Jacob all my life, so her question seems silly. "Of course we are!"

"Oh. But didn't you hear about that time that Quileute gang beat up James cause he went on the Rez without, like, permission?"

I knew the gang – Jacob did not like them one bit. Sam Uley and his crew were a little misguided bunch of kids who did all this stupid shit in the name of their tribe. Unlike Jacob and his friends Embry and Quil, who actually did legit and respectful tribal stuff like learning to speak the language, telling their ancestors' stories, and attending meetings. But the thing with James was actually one time where I think Sam and his ignorant gang had the right idea.

"James got beaten up by that gang because he assaulted the leader's girlfriend at the time." I explain, shrugging. "He shouldn't have been so stupid as to try and come on the Rez after that. Anyone else is totally cool. I've been friends with Jake for yeeeeears."

I glance over at Alice quickly and see that she's embarrassed.

"Sorry, that was such a stupid question."

"No way, it was a fair enough one," I reassure her earnestly.

Alice cracks a little smile. "The only stuff I know about Indians comes from watching _Dances With Wolves_."

"Ohmygod, we're watching that in history! It's so good!"

"Yeah. Super long though – it'll probably take you the rest of the term to finish it," she jokes in reply.

We find Jacob in his shed fixing up his Rabbit. He takes one look at my truck and tells me he'll need a defibrillator. Eeexcellent. Not.

We talk a bit about school and how lame our parents all are for a while. Jacob teases me about the fact that I'll have to catch the bus to school. Even Alice gets a lift from her mom – but there's no way I'm arriving in Charlie's cruiser. I don't think I could get any less popular at school, but I'm not about to test that theory.

Jacob quizzes Alice a bit on her "visions", and Alice tentatively asks about some cultural stuff. He tries to teach us how to say, "Hello, how are you?" in Quileute, and _shit_, we suck at it.

I ask about how Quil and Embry are going, and Jake's face turns dark. Apparently, Paul, who is as loyal to Sam and his gang as a dog to his owner, has been trying to coerce Jake's friends into joining the gang. Embry had even gone so far as to shave his head.

"Have you told Billy? Do Embry's parents know?" I inquire.

"Quil's mom is pretty stressed out about it, and Billy's not happy. Sam just gives the Rez a bad name."

Alice and I try to offer some advice, but truthfully, we don't know what to do. Alice and her _intuition_ seem to be worried about it. I can sympathize with Jacob: it always seems like after a while, friends pull away and disappoint you.

We hang around til six o'clock when Alice and I decide it's time we better go. My truck has other plans, so we're left without a ride. Billy is out of town, Charlie's working late, and Alice's mom would _flip_ if she had to pick us up. I run through my contacts list in my phone, deciding who to contact.

My finger hovers over the name, and after quick deliberation, I press _call_.

I hold my breath, thinking the whole while, _I should hang up, I should hang up, I should hang up_. He answers after three rings.

"Um, hey, Edward. It's Bella," my voice cracks. Gah.

"Hey Bella," Edward says, sounding surprised. "What's up?"

"Um, well, I went to the support group meeting tonight-"

"How'd it go?"

" –Good. Anyways, I was wondering if…you could maybe pick me and my friend Alice, up, and drop us home? We're down at La Push, and my car's decided to go on strike."

"Okay," Edward answers immediately.

I stutter as I reply; I assumed I'd have to grovel to get a ride. "T-Thanks! We'll give you gas money."

"No need." Ohmyfreakinggod, how can his cheerful voice make me feel so awkward?

I recover after a moment. "Do you know how to get to La Push? I can give you directions…."

"I'll just use my GPS. Thanks, though,"

A laugh escapes me. "Ah, even the great Edward Cullen won't ask for directions!"

Edward laughs…_but doesn't deny it!_ "See you in like fifteen?"

"'Kay. Thanks."

Edward turns up in his silver, shiny Volvo. Jacob eyes the car with poorly disguised jealousy as Alice and I bid him goodbye. Alice tells Jacob it would be a good idea to watch out for his friends, which is pretty nice of her.

Thankfully, Edward doesn't hug me when he steps out of his car. He greets Jake and Alice warmly.

The first couple of seconds, where we scramble into his car, is a little bit awkward, but after that it's pretty much smooth sailing. I sit in the front seat and Alice is in the back. Edward accidentally brushes my hand as he goes to reach for his gearstick – I rush my hand away, scalded. My face feels hot and I avoid his eyes. Alice breaks the tension by talking to Edward; they click instantly.

Edward drops Alice home first. She gives me a hug goodbye and shoots me a loaded look as she leaves. _Ack._ The look totally says_, make out with him in the back of his shiny car!  
_

Or at least, that's how I read it.

Edward says, "She seems really nice," as he pulls out of her drive.

"Mmm," I agree in reply.

Edward turns on his CD player and puts the volume up. Beethoven slowly begins to flit in and around the car. I find it soothing, and rest my head against the window, my eyes closed.

I drift away, thinking about Alice and Jacob and Edward: the only friends I now have. I revisit visions of getting back at my old friends: spilling Angela's secrets, making Jessica jealous; and punching Lauren in her precious face. I want to do all of those things. I want to do none of those things. As symphony no. five reaches its crescendo, I decide to go spiritual and _be thankful for what ye have_.

I open my eyes. The beautiful sunset is being attacked by the deep and dark night sky.

"Thank you…for being a really good friend," I say to Edward quietly, feeling heat rise to my cheeks as my voice floats over the music.

"No problem," Edward replies in just as soft a voice. He turns down his music. "Hey, so we're _good_ friends, right?"

He glances at me, and I nod in response.

"So…friends can take friends out to dinner, can't they?"

"I suppose so."

"Would you like to grab a bit to eat for dinner?" He asks. "Unless you and your dad have something planned, of course."

I feel relaxed. I don't want to go home just yet. I owe Edward. _All signs point to dinner._ "Oh, no, we don't. Where should we go?"

"Mom told me there was a nice restaurant in Port Angeles. We could go there…"

I know that restaurant. People go on dates there.

The dark has almost eclipsed the orange skyline, and I'm suddenly fully alert.

"Okay. Edward?"

His pale green eyes connect with mine. "Yeah?"

"This won't be a date."

His smile turns lopsided. "Of course it won't be," he bullshits me.

I roll my eyes and turn up his music again. The song has changed to a Debussy classic. Edward hums smugly along to the dreamlike tune.

Going to dinner with Edward won't be anything like a date. Not at all.

Way to lie to yourself, Bella.

….

_I break our kiss. Edward's left hand is hovering and twitching over my white-with-pink-bows underwear. His eyes ask permission to delve into me. The forbidden and virginal words can't grace his lips – he'll probably choke on them._

_I survey the damage. My a-cup bra is long forgotten on the floor. Two days ago, we had touched each other. His lips are swollen, and he's completely naked now. No one will catch us; we're totally alone. It's unbearably hot, yet I need him, want him, and have to have him. _

_Neither of us have done it before, so it will be an awkward mess of pain and fumbling limbs and most likely blood. Every magazine tells me not to expect much, so I won't._

_I can feel my heart beating in my head, and my breathing picks up as I nod a little in reply to him. My wet lips caress and tug at his._

_We're too young. We're the perfect age. Everyone does it at fourteen, anyway._

_We're fifteen, and I let Edward Cullen take me for the first time._


	7. Rising Humidity

**Rising Humidity**

**A/N: **I'm really happy to be updating! Thank you to everyone who has review Summerboy (especially to KimiD and ttharman) - the response has been brilliant so far. Herein lies little bit of citrus for your kindness... I'd totally read this in the 1/2 view if I were you. It's way awesomer :)

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"Do you like the mushroom ravioli?" Edward inquires gently.

I hurriedly finish chewing my latest piece of pasta, swallow, and answer. "Yeah. It's really nice. You picked a great place, Edward."

Edward smiles happily. "I'm glad."

My fork scrapes along the bottom of the plate, filling the silence. So far, our dinner has been quite an awkward affair. The restaurant is lit in a dimmed, romantic way. The waitress had obviously wondered _what the flying fuck_ was I doing with a guy as hot as Edward, while she took our orders. My head was surrounded by a halo of frizzy hair because of the sudden onset of rain and I had a zit on the edge of my chin. Edward's hair was immaculately messy and his skin acted like it wasn't made up of a million pores. It didn't take long for our meals to come, but while we waited, Edward started to point out what he thought other people in the restaurant were thinking.

For the waitress, my money was on sex. With Edward. The prodigal son himself had guessed _going home_ for the leggy blonde.

I had smirked. "Yeah, going home with you." Edward had replied with a cheeky, _I thought that was what you were planning?_

He had taken my silence as an admission. Stupid, cocky green-eyed bastard.

The arrival of our meals had pretty much silenced us both for a while. I decide I should probably attempt to make conversation since Edward just asked me a question, but he beats me to it. "How was your day?"

"It was all right," I respond quietly before elaborating. _Come on, Bella. Try to aim for a sentence with more than five syllables. _"I think I got a detention. Oh, I had to sit next to Ugly Braces Girl in history, and she spent the whole lesson wondering aloud what a hussy like me was doing with an emerald-orbed spunk like you. I'm not even paraphrasing. The chick is so backwards she said 'emerald-orbed spunk.'"

Edward looks vaguely amused. "I take it that you don't like her?"

I sigh. "She's just really judgemental. She always whispers things like 'slut' under her breath in class."

"You call her Ugly Braces Girl," Edward points out.

I don't like where he's going with this. "I don't say that to her face, though."

"Still. You're judging her like she judges you."

"Oh my god, would you stop being the voice of reason for, like, a second?" I laugh exasperatedly before relenting. "I _suppose_ you're right. I just wish _Victoria _didn't have such a bad opinion of me. It hurts. But, I mean…I guess I've never really done anything to prove her wrong."

Edward narrows his eyes, confused. "You always said you'd only ever slept with me?" he says, although it comes out more like a question.

"And that's still true. But I experimented with other guys, and Jess always liked to play things up to get attention."

Edward is silent for a moment. "Why don't you tell Victoria how you feel? She might apologize once she realizes how she makes you feel," he finally suggests.

I hate to admit it, but it sounds like a good idea. Maybe I'll tell her that she should stop talking about Edward's eyes poetically. That's stalker material. That's Lauren, Jess and Angela material – last week they'd been doing the same thing.

I eat a few more pieces of my ravioli, swishing them around in the sauce before popping them into my mouth. My mind is locked on my ex-friends.

"Why didn't you say something the other day at lunch?" I inquire weakly. "Make Lauren believe you hadn't screwed me?"

Edward sighs and looks at me apologetically. "I thought you should handle it on your own. You're strong enough."

"Well, _Alice_ handled it, really. I was going to just run out of there," I reply.

"Alice gave you the option to stay and fight, but _you_ made the _decision_," Edward says as if he's a wise preacher. I shouldn't be so sarcastic. He's kinda _right_.

Edward seems to possess the unnatural ability to render me silent. "_It's a miracle!" Jacob would cry._ I push my remaining ravioli around the dish, thinking hard. Finally, I exhale and plaster a smile on my face.

"Okay, Cullen, enough blowing sunshine up my ass," I say, which makes him almost choke on his mouthful of steak. I think he's pleased to hear a bit of the old Bella back in my voice. "This whole time we've been talking about me when we should be talking about you. How are you liking Forks? How's your family settling in?"

Edward swallows his food and begins to gabble, eager to talk about his experiences in the rainiest state in the Continental US. "Forks isn't too bad. It's not as small-town as you made it out to be. I think Dad misses working in a crazy-busy hospital, but Mom loves her new job. I think it sounds boring, but she seems to like it. Emmett has been grumbling about the lack of single women, although he acts like he enjoys working under his new contractors."

"And what about you? Are you settling in okay? Do you miss home?"

"Ehh, I suppose. School's pretty much the same whatever state you live in. I have been missing home, lately, though."

I take a sip of my water with a small smile. "Did you bring your piano?" I ask shyly.

We share a secret look. "Yes," Edward answers, trying to sound cryptic with one word and failing. "I'll tell you more about that some other time."

Oh, god, _now_ he's got my interest. I've admitted to myself long ago that anything to do with Edward's talented fingers is something that I should be very concerned about.

Edward changes the subject. He punctuates his next statement with a lopsided smile. "How's all this motherfucking rain? My friend Tanya keeps sending me pictures of the beach just to piss me off."

I process this information. Edward has a friend named Tanya. Unless Tanya's parents are new age, Tanya is a girl. Edward has a close friend who is a _girl_.

I feel like I'm at an ATM and it's asking me questions. _How would you like to proceed?_

I try to act casual. "Tanya? You've never mentioned her before."

"Really? Oh, well, we've only really been friends these past two years. "

I am not prying. I am not prying at all.

"Do you miss her?"

"Yeah, sure." Edward then proceeds to find a photo of her in his phone. He tosses it over to me. Edward's friend would make a supermodel want to put a paper bag over her head. Tanya's got long legs, great boobs and strawberry blonde hair – the type that screams _kinky_. Shit.

"She really knows how to throw a party," he comments as I gingerly hand his phone back to him.

"I know how to throw a party, too," I blurt out before I can stop myself. I try to back pedal as fast as I can. "Well, at least I used to. New, quiet, loner Bella probably couldn't."

I feel as embarrassed as if that stupid waitress had pushed my face into my bowl of ravioli. I've managed to be indignant, jealous and self-deprecating - all in one rambling sentence.

Edward shakes his head. He doesn't even pick up the jealousy about Tanya – maybe he can be as obtuse as most of guys I know every once in a while. "You aren't a completely different person, Bella. You've just…evolved."

"I'm not a Pokémon, Edward."

"Seriously. So you're not as flirty or as reckless as you once were – what's wrong with that? I think you've grown up, personally."

I feel like he's punch me in the chest. I feel so angry that I might cry. "So it took some thirty-five year old guy feeling me up to make me take life seriously?" I snap.

My words echo, carving their ugly mark into the tea lights and decadent artworks that adorn the restaurant's walls. Edward swears and immediately says sorry, but I cut off his apology.

"I'm sorry, I'm being a bitch," I say quickly. I take a deep breath and closing my eyes. "I get what you're saying. Thank you; it's nice to know I'm not the fifteen year old who painted your hair with glow stick juice in your eyes anymore." I try to crack a smile. I wait a beat before continuing slowly, "Thank you for suggesting the support group. I think I'll go next week. It was…nice."

Edward looks really apologetic. "Let me drive you until your truck gets fixed. To make up for being an asshole."

I think I can let his one comment slide. Alice and I had agreed that he was being way more understanding than any normal guy would be. I nod in agreement. "And how can I make it up to you for _me_ being an asshole?"

Edward grins. "Oh, I can think of a few ways…"

We skip out on dessert and pay half of the bill each. We spend the car trip home in content silence. The fast blur of white road lines whipping past puts me in a hypnotic daze. Edward's twinkling classical music lulls me. There's no angry, anxious electricity between us; a warm, safe hum has filled its place.

Edward pulls up outside my house. The lights are on, which means Charlie is home. I lazily look over to Edward as I unbuckle my seatbelt.

"I should go. Thanks for the ride…and dinner."

Edward unbuckles his seat belt, too, and grins. He turns in his seat so that he's facing me. "I don't think you should go."

I recognize the look in his eyes. I know what's coming and I don't know whether I want to stop it or not. "Did Newton give you that line?" I reply dryly.

Edward leans closer. His eyes dart from my eyes to my lips quickly. My head is against the window. He crouches over me, and gives me a kiss. I can feel my heart thumping in my head. His lips are warm as they push against mine, and all too soon, my neck is hurting because it's titled at an odd angle, as Edward's body is somehow flush with mine as we make out. I sound out the words "neck – hurting —" around Edward's hot tongue. He grunts in reply and directs me to move so that my back is against the seat. We only break contact as Edward moves his head to hungrily kiss me from a different angle. My fingers interlace in his messy hair. I know _this_. I know Edward and I. I can do this without flipping out.

His hands find my shirt as his grinds up against me. I can feel his cock stirring in his pants; he's that close to me. I start to kiss Edward more deeply, and he groans into my mouth as I bit down on his lower lip. His groan sends a thrill of excitement and pleasure through me – but for some reason I feel fear. I'm scared. _I'm so scared_. My mind is working overtime trying not to think about _what happened_, but Edward doesn't seem to notice my distraction.

I move so that my tongue is encircling his again, licking the spot where I bit his lip in the process. I can instantly tell that this totally turns Edward on even more, the horny freak, because he fumbles with the buttons on my shirt. Normally, I would be excited about the fact that Edward would suck on my nipples – his mouth is fucking fantastic and it's something we both know really gets me going. Thinking about his warm, wet lips used to get me through some boring classes last year.

But something is different this time. I move backwards, and he takes this as his cue to move the seat towards the back so that it's like we're almost lying down. The seat is down in a second, and Edward is on top of me. It's only taken five minutes of heavy petting for Edward to be fully erect and ready to go. The hazy moonlight highlights the hungry look in his eyes.

He had pulled down the seat lever just a little too quickly; I'm unnerved on top of feeling scared. I push against his body and move my head away from his, breaking our contact. Edward's breath is hot on my neck. I scramble upwards so that my feet are tucked up, my heels hitting the back of my thighs. I can feel my heart beating. I think he's trying to catch my gaze.

"You've done this type of thing in your car before, haven't you?" I try to joke. My voice cracks and leaves silence in its wake like the delivery of a bad cliché.

"Uh, yeah," Edward admits as he exhales. His arms are supporting him as he leans over me.

"I'm not worried about that, or anything," I say in a rush, hoping he won't get the wrong idea. "You know me. You just….I, uhm…." My brain can't formulate the word. _Fuckity fuck fuck._ "I don't know if this…feels…right…"

Edward moves off me and sits awkwardly on his dashboard. He babbles apologetically, running a hand through his messy red-brown hair. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't even thinking straight. I didn't realize it would hurt you. Shit! I shouldn't have come over you like that, of course it would remind you of-"

"No," I interrupt him firmly. "Edward, no, that's not it _at all_. I just think that once I'm ready I'd like to be the one to, well, instigate it. I'm…I'm not ready yet."

I feel so embarrassed. I've never been the girl who stopped a guy because she wasn't ready. I've always been ready.

I don't feel like a woman, proud and standing her ground. I feel like a small mousy girl who's been backed into a corner.

Is this how saying _no_ is meant to feel?

Edward looks at me sadly. "I understand," he says quietly. His cock, judging by its erection, probably isn't as forgiving to me, but I'm grateful for his acknowledgement anyway.

"I'm sorry," I say, nodding towards it. Edward looks down and tries to readjust his pants so that I can't see it. It doesn't work. Edward looks sheepish, but he gives me a smile that says _no problem_.

I redo the buttons on my flannelette shirt, reach for the door handle and push the passenger door open. "You didn't hurt me, Edward," I mumble. "I don't think it's humanely _possible_ for you to hurt me."

I grab my bag and stumble out the door. Edward catches and grabs the doorframe before I slam it shut. His face is glowing in the moonlight. His strange green eyes look almost clear.

"Good thing I'm not human," he leers in jest before clawing at the air and barring his teeth.

I purse my lips together as I try to keep my smile from stretching out across my face. Edward has been more than kind to me, and the fact that I can't give myself to him kills me. It's embarrassing. It makes me feel as unworthy as Jess used to insinuate I was. I'm so mixed up about _everything_ in my life; I'm surprised I've managed to even hold up a conversation lately. Strangely, I feel a little better about the fact that they are other people just like me who know who this type of confusion feels.

I give Edward an awkward kiss on the cheek.

"See you tomorrow, Dracula," I say before jogging up to my front steps. Edward waits until I'm safely inside my house, _the place where Phil came up to me/__where Renee found me huddled in the bottom of the shower, crying, _before driving away.

...

_I'm sixteen. Emmett is having the time of his life by showing me a video of Edward at his latest piano recital as we are waiting for Dr. Carlisle to bring back lunch. By the way Emmett's mouth curls up and his dimples show, I think I'm meant to find the idea of Edward playing Chopin with such fervour absolutely hilarious. _

_But I don't. I know how much Edward loves to play. I know how much he hates to hide his secret talents from his guy friends at school. Oh, they know he plays, but not much else. It's the passion of Edward's life that is forever shelved away on the pretence of not being a sport, a career, or something worthwhile._

_I watch his talented fingers dance, weave and twirl along the ivory keys with awe._

_I know exactly what those extraordinary fingers can do._

_

* * *

_**A/N:** The last line isn't as cool because doesn't allow strokes through fonts. Anywho...Any thoughts on Bella and Edward's relationship so far? What do you think will happen now that they'll be spending more time together? ;)


	8. Heavy Downpour

**Seven: Heavy Downpour**

* * *

I don't get much sleep once I head to bed. I can't believe I've managed to feel more pathetic than I already do. It's like I've been just lost all my lives before the end of _Halo 3_ at Legendary difficulty level: I thought that with the group I might have been getting somewhere, only to feel like I'm back at the start.

I realize, after obsessing over the Edward-car-seat-scenario for forty-five minutes, that I'm probably getting ahead of myself. Going to one support group session wasn't going to fix all of my problems. What I was dealing with couldn't be resolved by a quick fix.

But _god_, what had _happened_ to me? What happened to the girl who made Edward erect, under the dinner table, by secretly grabbing his junk while Esme and Renee talked about pottery classes? What happened to the girl who was ready for whatever came her way because it was in those intimate and hot moments that she truly knew herself?

That Bella was buried eight feet under. I'm sure Edward would be crying at her funeral.

For the next week, Edward and I get on fairly well. We spend the car ride to and from school talking about miscellaneous crap; like school, the new movie _Crosshairs _and guessing what Lauren Mallory's real hair colour is. A few times he tried to bring up the Wednesday Night Debacle, but I'd always quickly change the subject, and he wouldn't press it again that day.

Exactly a week after the Wednesday Night Debacle, I wake up, say good morning to my dad and fully intend on continuing to ignore what happened last week. I had to get up a little earlier because Edward has something on - I have no idea what – but whatever, he's giving me free rides to school so I'm happy to comply.

The phone rings suddenly, just as I'm about to open a granola bar.

"Oh, Bella, honey! Hi!" It's Renee. I smile. It's good to hear from my mom again.

"Hey, Mom! How are you?" I reply, which then results in Renee going on for twenty minutes about some new guy she's seeing. He's closer to her age than Phil was, and works for a big law firm. I'm impressed with the new guy – he actually sounds mature – but kinda let down by Renee's turn of conversation. She's always been a little more into herself than into me.

At some point, she mentions the Cullens, and more importantly, Edward. I tense, foreseeing an awkward conversation.

"Charlie told me Edward was driving you to school," Renee hedges. "I hope you're okay with that, being so close to him and all…"

I seethe, venom in my voice. "I was fine all summer with him, wasn't I?"

"Oh yes, honey, but I just worry about you, that's all. I know you haven't been dealing well with happened with Phil."

"_Is_ there a way to deal well? Gee, I had no idea, Renee." I cut the crap and stop calling her 'Mom'. She's always been happy-go-lucky, no-responsibility-Renee.

"Don't take that tone with me, Isabella. You know I'm just trying to help you. I miss my happy little girl, and I just want her back."

"Yeah, well, I guess since you barely talked to me all summer I'm just a little sceptical about you actually being interested in how I feel about the incident." I don't even let Renee argue back. "I'm going to a support group, now, anyways, and it's really helping. I'm more like myself than I've ever been. Look, I gotta go. Bye."

I slam the phone down back into the receiver. The sound echoes like my lies. I stare at the receiver for a long time, unseeing.

I decide that the mourning period is over. Forks-Bella-Swan is here to stay, and I'm just going have to swallow it. But I'll be damned if I don't show Renee that I can get over _the incident_. I'll be damned if I don't show Jess, Lauren, and Angela that Alice is a better friend and cooler person than all of them combined by just ignoring their stupid, bitchy comments. I'll be damned if I don't show Edward that I can still be up for anything.

I'll be damned if I don't erase Phil out of my head once and for all.

The drive to school is slow because of the black ice on the road. I check my reflection in Edward's side mirrors; I made sure that I wore eyeliner and blush today. Edward likes it when I dress up a little sultry.

Edward looks pretty tired; there must be some test that he's been studying like mad for. _Shit. _It's not for Bio, is it? I deftly grab my school planner out of my bag, and my heart slows once I realize that there's nothing due for bio yet, let alone a quiz.

At least that's one less thing I have to be nervous about. When we finally pull up at school, the lot is pretty much empty.

I undo my seatbelt and lithely crouch over Edward. I press my warm palm against his cheek and kiss him softly on the lips. He's hesitant to kiss me back. My hands roam over his wonderful shoulders. The electricity is there. My confidence is there, because I know what's going on and what's going to happen. No sudden surprises.

I start to trace my tongue along his lower lip, when suddenly, Edward moves away from me. A frown crosses over my face; confused, I try to explain. I look over at him, my long hair framing my face.

"I'm trying to show you that even if I've changed, I'm still…you know…willing. I got scared last Wednesday, but I think if we go slowly we can have a lot of fun." I smile winningly, hoping it will please him.

Edward unbuckles his seatbelt, kills the ignition and makes to open his door. He looks disappointed in me.

"You know that's not what I want, Bella," he says in a low voice, and I freeze. We've hit the point of no return.

I know what he wants. He wants three little words and a title that screams _committed relationship_. "That's not what we ever agreed to," I reply, an edge to my voice, scrambling back into my own seat. My chin is up, defiant. Edward knows the rules.

"Sometimes I wish that I'd never agreed," he snaps and slams the door shut. I scramble out the car and call after him, but he's already locked the Volvo and started to walk away.

He's sick of being used. Sick of not getting what he wants. Can I really blame him?

_But he agreed, _a little voice reminds me in the back of my head. _He blood-swore with you._

I keep my head down, confused and shamed, as I walk the halls after totally blanking out on my first class. Edward texts me just before second period begins.

_I can't deal with this today. Emmett will pick u up and drive u 2 the meeting._

I stare at the screen as I walk. I run into someone with a mop full of dead, chemically straightened hair in the hall. Ooh, just my luck – it's _Lauren_! Yay!

She swears at me for knocking into her – uhm, those aren't _your_ books on the floor, bitch – and then glares.

"You know, I also ran into Edward Cullen just before," she mentions to me, "although, he _apologized_."

Lauren's voice is funny – I think she has a cold. I make to respond, but she cuts me off and carves me up into little tiny pieces of pathetic.

"You're such a selfish little whore," she goads, her voice purely gluttonous with power. "You expect him to just roll over and beg whenever you want him to? And here I always thought you were so _vanilla_. Guess you're more of a freak than I expected. But _you're_ not the one he's tutoring every Thursday."

A simpering little smile flits on her pink-frosting colored lips. I bet she thinks she looks _drop dead gorgeous_ with the latest YSL lipstick on. I bet no one's told her it washes out her whole complexion. She'd hang the person who told her that by their iPod headphones. Anyway, her smile says _oh, look, I've won __again_. "Ciao, Bella!" she coos over her shoulder as she walked away from me.

I'm pretty much shaking by the time I reach Biology. Everyone's running later – including Mr. Banner – so it's a few of Mike's friends sitting up the back, watching something that sounds like porn on Tyler's laptop, and Edward, writing furiously fast, that fill up the room.

I slam my books on Edward and I's desk.

"You told Lauren about us? About our summers?" I fume, practically yelling in his face.

Edward looks seriously pissed. I've interrupted his precious writing time. He yanks his notebook off the desk, and angrily motions for me to follow him out into the hall, where the guys can't hear.

"No." He firmly replies. "I came into class, angry, and she asked what was wrong. I just told her a bit about what happened in the car."  
_  
Ohmygod! _I'm so humiliated I could scream. I could chuck a chair against the wall.

He continues. "Bella, I get that I should give you space because of Phil and all of that screwed up shit, but for fuck's sake, would you just give up on the idea that I'm going to fuck you over? I am _not_ as shallow as your mother. You can trust me."

I'm silent. I will myself not to cry. He's hit the core of me. I stare at the sheet he's been writing on. The ball-point-penned musical notes swirl as tears threaten to fall from my eyes.

Edward fixes a hand in his hair, aggravated. He lets out a sigh as he concludes, "You know what? I'm not even sure if I want you to trust me right now. I'm not even sure _if_ you trust me. You've never actually said _it _back to me. I….I think I need space from all this drama. Emmett will pick you up, okay?"

I nod. Edward's careful to give me a wide berth as he stalks past and away from me; just like everyone else in the hall.

Call the scientists. Apparently sexual assault is catching.

"_Please," I whimper, my voice squeaking. Something snaps inside Phil. His hand is clenched around my upper arm. He looks horrified. "I'm sorry – I don't know why - " he stutters, but I try to run away from him_ _and_ no one looks my way as hot, salty tears roll down my cheeks and nose. I guess it's just another day for Bella Swan at Forks High. Just another day where she freaks out.

I become so numb that I can't feel anyone there, just like the guys from Linkin Park. Alice lets it slide at lunch, I guess as a favour to me for not prying about her mom issues, but I actually start to feel a little guilt by the time we reach English. We get a partner project where we have to inform the class about a chosen topic – ours is the 'coincidental' first performance of King Lear staged after the Annesley lawsuit in 1603; _boring as fuck_, in other words. We both agree that we want to get it done quickly, so I suggest that we stay behind and finish it in the school library this afternoon. Alice is pretty keen about the idea.

While we learn all about Annesley and his _who-the-hell-cares_ daughter, Cordell, after school, Alice admits that her mom doesn't actually allow people over on a school night so that she won't be distracted from studying. I consider sharing a few expletives with her, but I know the sad look in her gray-blue eyes. She's telling me because she needs someone to confide into, but she doesn't want me to judge. And I don't.

We finish the project in forty-five minutes, and then spend the next twenty or so discussing how on earth I went wrong with Edward in the car. Alice says that while my idea was good, I didn't execute it right. I think she's a little concerned about how I'm so guarded around him, or why I act so selfish when I'm with him, but she doesn't say anything. Hell, I don't even know if she actually thinks that. It's probably that lovely, magical little conscience-voice of mine that should be locked in a cupboard under the stairs. Vernon Dursley would know what I'm _talkin' bout_.

Emmett picks me up at quarter to five. We exchange pleasantries for a while. Thank God for him – he doesn't ask about why he has to drive me. He's such a calm, awesome guy. I wish he's my brother, sometimes. He actually seems genuinely interested when Alice gets that strange shadow across her face and tells him to, "Talk to the blonde girl with red lips."

I don't even want to go to the support group. I desperately want to go. My mind is torn, but even so, I hop out of the car, Emmett promising to meet me inside when it's finished. I let him payout my failing Chevy, I'm so distracted. I cross the pale, yellow timber threshold and take a seat in the circle that probably still has some symbolic meaning.

All too soon, Carmen, the group leader, invites me to share my story.

Everyone quietens down as I twist my hands around each other. Carmen encourages me, telling me I don't have to worry about standing up.

I think about how I'm going to word it, but then it all comes out in weird, stagnated sentences.

"About eight months ago, I was at home in the afternoon, making some tuna casserole. My mom and her boyfriend, Phil, had dropped into visit for the day at my dad's house. My dad was at work, my mom had gone out to see some old friends and Phil had stayed behind to watch a baseball game on TV. He… He. Uhm. Backed me into the wall beside the kitchen, and… uhm. Yeah. Touched me. Like, not inside, or anything. Just over my clothes and my underwear and stuff. I wasn't wearing a short skirt; I'd never tried to lead him on or anything. I froze for a while, let him do it, but he didn't stop so I tried to push him off me. Apparently that's not what you're meant to do, but for some reason, he snapped out it. Realized what he'd been doing, ran out of the house, and drove away. I eventually got a SAPO on him."

I will not cry. I will not cry. But I start to, anyway. The room is silent as tears sting my tired eyes. "People at school think I did it on purpose," I whisper.

One of the ladies, who cried when she spoke last week, comes over and hugs me. I cling onto her warm embrace, not even flinching at the unexpected touch. She's older, a bit plump, and smells like Chanel No.5. She feels like what a mother should. After a while, she lets go, and I mumble _thanks_. I think her name is Siobhan. Carmen quietly thanks me for _being so brave and letting us in._

The girl, who spoke in a detached voice last week, speaks up now. The anger that coats her voice in a primeval way makes her even more dangerously beautiful. "You'll soon realize that you don't deserve whatever happened, Bella," she solidly reassures me. "Just because you wear a short skirt or flirt with someone doesn't mean you led them to rape you. It took me three months here to figure that one out."

I stare at her in shock. She's the first total stranger who's told me I didn't deserve _the incident_. When people who love you tell you that…it's like, just an echo. They have to say it. They love you.

But this girl doesn't love me. She hardly even knows me. She smiles, her red lips splitting to show her lovely white teeth. Her angry blue eyes become kind. "I'm Rosalie, by the way," she adds on. "Damn, I always need to introduce myself first before I say stuff like that."

This makes me smile back at Rosalie. One of the men clears his voice.

"I think you have it tougher than I did, Bella," he comments. "I know we're not meant to think like that…but I didn't have to worry about people saying that I was lying."

I swallow hard. "It kinda sucks."

Rosalie snorts. "It sucks major balls," she retorts, and laugher ripples out throughout the room.

When the meeting ends, Rosalie comes and finds me sipping on a mug of hot chocolate. She berates me for my lack of marshmallows. We talk for a while – she's really nice. She gives me hope, in a way. Her story was far more horrific than mine, and yet she manages to function just fine.

After about ten minutes, Emmett comes through the door gingerly, trying to spot me. He finds me, grins – complete with dimples, and I give a little wave. His face then goes kinda slack as he sees who I'm standing next to.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Rosalie inquires, her eyes on Emmett.

"No way," I laugh, while thinking _are you kidding me? He's practically salivating over her._

Rosalie tucks a bit of her blonde hair behind her ear. For a moment, she looks devilishly sweet and shy. "Could you introduce me?" she asks.

"Sure," I reply, curious at this little twist of fate. I need to tell Alice to start charging by the hour.

That night, I don't dream of Phil's unwanted touches and leers. My mind twists and distorts a memory; Edward trying to teach me _Fur Elise_ last summer. His fingers never brush mine, as they really did as I dumbly played the piano, and nor is it raining. It's sunny.

But Edward doesn't instruct me, as he really did. He doesn't speak. He lets me make mistakes and I hit all the wrong notes.

...

_We're fifteen. Edward and I are up against his parent's caravan door, making all sorts of terrible and pleasurably good noises. _

"_Unhh," I moan. "Oh, yeah, baby."_

_Edward bursts out laughing, and like an infection, his happiness quickly spreads to me. I giggle. Edward bashes against the door again for dramatic effect and starts moaning too. We continue making mock-sex noises until Emmett and Tall-And-Tanned-Teresa from the ice cream store, his summer fling, take the hint and quieten down inside._

_An hour later, Teresa sneaks out the back door with her dress on inside out and Emmett comes out to find us. He looks irritated._

"_I was having a good time until you two ruined it!" he says, annoyed._

"_Aww, lighten up, Emmett!" I tease, and he admits defeat, because that's what he says to everyone._

"_Yeah, well," Edward jibes, "Bella and I were having a brilliant conversation until you two ruined it!"_

_Emmett grabs Edward in a matter of seconds and hoists him up and upside down. They scuffle on the sandy grass._

_I watch amusedly and take a bite out of one of the blue popsicles Teresa thoughtfully brought over. The icy-cold sweet stains my white dress, and when Edward later comments that he thinks blue looks beautiful on me, I blush._

_

* * *

_

**A/N:** (A 'SAPO', 'Sexual Assault Protection Order', is basically is a Washington state restraining order pertaining to sexual assault.) What do you think of Edward snapping at Bella? And how do you like the inclusion of Rosalie? I love to hear your wonderful thoughts!


	9. Blue Skies

**Chapter Eight: Blue Skies**

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who has been patiently waiting for this chapter! I am terribly sorry that it took over a month to come out: I have always intended to update Summerboy frequently, but in these past few weeks I've had to put university first. I was very surprised to see how angry Edward made a lot of you last chap: hopefully, if Bella can forgive him, you can too. He really _is_ a nice guy trying to do his best in a not-so-nice situation. Thank you to all that have reviewed and spread the word about Summerboy. Much love to PasticheLethe, my beta for this fic. Just a little note: in August I will be posting a Summerboy outtake called "You", written for Fandom For Sexual Assault Awareness. To receive it before then, along with many other great o/s's, you can donate to this worthy cause! The outtake follows the summer vacation after Bella was assaulted - the summer mentioned in the prologue. That's all from me now. Love you all!

Oh, yeah,** warning: **Major limes in this chapter!

* * *

It takes me two weeks to feel comfortable at the group sessions at the Forks Abuse Program. It takes me another week and a half to realize I haven't been overreacting about _the incident_ like Jess and Lauren told me. The nightmares, the creeping memories; everything has just been a _reaction_. A normal reaction. An expected one. Someone sexual assaults you, you cry. You judge. You blame. You alienate. You hurt yourself. You hurt others. You do anything to stop the pain, and anything to prolong it; to stop the numbness. Carmen says that I'm just like everybody else.

I cry the first time I figure it out. People understand at the group, and they believe me. There's something powerful in the undying belief of strangers. It's almost like my life has turned into a bad, inspirational movie where the protagonist finds a medium that helps them achieve self-actualization. Jacob has cheekily offered to direct in return for me sneaking him into a MA movie, bless his sixteen year old soul.

A month goes by in the blink of an eye. A month of fun conversations with Alice, of ignoring Ugly Braces Girl's comments in history, of wondering if Renee will bother to call anytime soon, of building a strange friendship with Rosalie Hale, the sarcastic girl from the meetings. Alice and I receive top marks on our little King Lear research assignment.

_Look out GPA 5.0 classmates, here I come!_

School lulls into a boring background blur of _blah, blah, blah_. I think the novelty of giving the once good-girl detentions has finally worn off on my teachers, because even the one time I fall asleep in Modern History, I don't get one. Charlie seems happy about that. We have dinner with Jacob and Billy a few times; Charlie goes fishing, does paperwork, and watches some baseball. Jake fixes my truck, finally, so I drive to myself school. Lauren glares, Jess whispers, Angela doesn't meet my eye. Mike Newton is….well, Mike Newton. There's a rumour that Tyler gave a freshman Chlamydia. Apparently, I'm still a slut who loves whatever attention she can get.

Bio is a silent class. Edward and I have barely spoken. _That's_ the part that really sucker punches me. That's the part that's in sharp focus against all the _blah, blah, blah_.

It's a Friday, and it's almost lunch. Lauren's birthday party is tonight, and everyone is talking about it. I'm trying to shut out all the hype by sticking my head in my locker. Not Sylvia-Plath-Oven style - that's Ugly Braces Girl's job. But nevertheless, I'm attempting to ignore it all while I grab my pencil case out of my locker. I slam the door, and it slams right back at me, almost hitting my face.

"Stupid little fucker," I grumble as I try to close it again.

"Excuse me?"

Eyes wide, I whip around to see Angela Weber looking at me quizzically.

"I-I was talking to my locker," I stammer like an utter loser to her.

"Oh, okay. So…how was math?"

What. The. Flying. _Fuck_? What is she up to?

"Fine…" I respond warily.

"Mine sucked. I don't think I'll ever understand quotients!" She's all calm-voiced and beaming at me and acting like nothing ever happened.

"That's nice," I reply shortly.

Angela closes her locker door. "Look, Bella, I just wanted to let you know that I _never_said anything to anyone about what happened with you and your mom's bf. Not even Ben. Lauren and Jess just got totally out of hand."

I raise an eyebrow. Over my shoulder I can see Jess coming towards us, applying lip-gloss as she walks. "You do realize that not sticking up for me is just as bad, don't you, Ang?" I stress to her. Jess has seen that Angela is talking to me and struts over.

Angela's response is cut off by Jess. "Why are you talking to her, Angela? She's not _worth_talking to."

I come up with a zillion replies. _You have a massive zit on your forehead. Does Mike know you slept with Tyler? I think you have an insect in your hair. You suck. You're not worth talking to._ I say none of these and instead raise my eyebrows like I'm waiting for a better insult than the one she just gave me.

Mike comes over and slings an arm around Jessica's shoulders. I think he saw her applying her lip-gloss and was turned on. How he imagines it to be like his penis, I don't know, but he nuzzles her hair and seems pretty smug. He laughs. "C'mon, Jess, give her a break," he says, like his girlfriend isn't thirty different shades of nasty and she's just been teasing me about something insignificant.

Jess rolls her eyes, and she and Angela stalk off past me. Mike shrugs at me. "I tried."

I give him a smile. "Thanks anyways."

Mike pushes me on the shoulder playfully, and of course I almost fall back into my locker and _Phil pushes me backwards up against the wall and_ no, no, no. Mike pushed me as a joke, and that's IT.

He walks off and has no idea that I just actually stopped myself from freaking out for just about the first time ever.

I'm pretty sure I just stepped into some strange vortex and disrupted the space-time continuum. Or something equally disastrous. I can't shake the feeling that something is different today; something is _weird_. First Angela tries to talk to me, and then I stop the creeping memories. I'm not even sure if this is a good-weird thing.

As I attempt to shrug off the feeling, and fail horribly, I head to the cafeteria for lunch to meet up with Alice.

Alice has basically been my rock throughout this whole month-with-out-talking-to-Edward thing. She will bluntly tell me the truth when I need to hear it, sugar-coat things when I don't, and distract me when I don't want to talk about him. Alice had an interesting vision a week before about sitting in the diner she always goes to; she said she'd never felt so happy about a vision before, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure it out. We'd gone to the diner three times already, but it was like her vision didn't come true or whatever. It was weird, but in a cool way. Anyways, it took up a large majority of a lunchtime discussions when I wanted to be distracted from the distance between Edward and I.

I met Alice in the lunch line, and launched easily into my story of Angela trying to play the victim as we grabbed a portion of the crouton-overloaded Caesar salad. The remainder of lunch was spent on theorizing on Alice's vision and confiding to her that I actually didn't really enjoy _Mansfield Park_. I was more of a _Wuthering Heights_ kinda girl, but she was totally loyal to Austen.

Somehow talking about how much I wanted to kill both Cathy and Heathcliff, even though I love their story, turned into us talking about Edward Cullen.

"He acts like he's in love with you, but that you betrayed him, or whatever," Alice observes, readjusting her pink headband. "Totally Heathcliff material."

I sigh, finish my mouthful of salad, and look at Alice. "I guess that's sort of what happened," I say, which makes her frown in response. I take a deep breath and start to explain.

_You are so guilty of some major crimes, Swan._

"Edward has told me twice that he loved me," I explain, my voice heavy as I elaborate. "That he wanted to date me. But I always turned him down; I was always honest with him and said that I couldn't do the whole relationship thing. And he let me. He _knew_ how I felt. If he really felt that way he'd just stand up and tell me he wouldn't do this anymore. But he never does. And I'm not sure I want him to. Alice, you know what its like. I _can't_ be my mother. I can't let Edward be her, either. I'm so afraid of getting hurt. I just _can't_."

Alice looks at me. Just stares. Her eyes are heavy with the weight of the conversation. She's silent for a while before she swallows and reaches a hand out to mine. I take it. "But you're hurting yourself _now_," she replies earnestly. "Bella, you deserve more than just screwing some guy. You deserve to be loved by someone like Edward who isn't going to let you go. And he deserves you, too."

Time freezes and so do I. The enormity and truth of what she says weighs down on my chest, and _god, it hurts, hurts so much_. Suddenly, and oh so suddenly, I want to die. I want to drown in my tears. I want to hide in the hollowed darkness of all my regret. I want to tell Edward that I'll be whatever he wants, because I want it too.

I go to Biology with some kind of determination rising up inside me. I slam my books down next to Edward, which makes him jump a little and look at me. I look him right in the eye.

"I'm sorry I've been really fucking you over lately, but we've been great friends for so long and I'd just like for things to go back to the way they were. You probably think that they can't but _they can_. Look. Hi, it's good to see you again. I've missed hanging out with you. Do you think we'll get that assignment today?"

"But Bella-"

"Just _forget_ for a while. We're just two friends sitting in bio not really paying attention to what the teacher is saying. Simple."

I get a good look at Edward as he struggles to formulate a sentence. His red-brown hair is messy as always, he's shaved recently, and he looks like he hasn't lost any sleep.

"Simple," he finally agrees in a cautious tone.

I feel my lips split into a smile. "Good. Yay!"

_Did the exclamation 'Yay!' just fall from my lips? Who do I think I am, Barbie?_

Edward laughs lightly at me and opens his notebook up. I get mine out too as our teacher enters. Mr. Banner begins the lesson by spilling his coffee all over his desk, so we gain an extra five minutes to talk while all the caffeinated milk is soaked up.

"You're in a good mood," Edward observes with amusement.

I fiddle with my blue pen. I can feel that my face is flushed. He hasn't made me blush in a long time. "Yep," I manage to reply.

Edward won't stop looking at me. My pen makes its way into my mouth, and I chew on the end of it nervously. That weird electricity is back. It's the same electricity from that lunch where he sat with the girls and me; the same electricity from the bio class when he convinced me to go to the support group. It feels like the same electricity that started this whole thing.

"I hope we get our assignment today," he says, answering my earlier question. He ruffles his hair habitually. "We'll work on it together, yeah?"

"Uhm, yeah. If you want to."

"Do you not want to work with me?"

"What? No! I do. I just wondered if you did."

"I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't want to work with you, Bella. Duh."

"Oh. Right. Well, I'd love to work with you." My face is red again. Why did I bother wearing make up today? My application of blush has now become irrelevant.

And then, Edward gives me his cheeky lopsided smile and _I think I'll just die happy right now, please. _"Great. I need to keep up my GPA, and since you're ranked second, I figured I'd keep you all to myself."

I say dryly around my pen, "I don't think anyone would want to work with me, anyways," before I fully register what he said. "Wait, I'm ranked second in this class? What the fuck? I thought I was failing everything."

Edward gives me a weird look. I think students usually care to know what their rank is. Ooops. "Well, you're obviously not failing Bio. You've always been smart, why would you think you were failing?"

It's my turn to give Edward a weird look. "I'm like the Detention Queen of Forks High."

Edward rolls his eyes like he doesn't believe me. I cock my head to the side, thinking. "You're ranked first, aren't you, Cullen?" I teased.

"Yeah. It's no big deal."

I snort. "Riiiight."

Mr. Banner has finished cleaning up his spilt coffee, but in the process has managed to come to the conclusion that Newton and his gang have been looking at porn pictures on Newton's laptop by the way they're all crowding around it and pointing. So, Mr. Banner's kinda busy yelling his head off at them.

"So, what have you been up to, Bella?" Edward asks me as he pulls a big book out his bag and drops it on our shared desk. "Oh, and I brought the textbook this time."

"Excellent, because I forgot," I reply happily. "Uhm, I haven't been up to much. Just chilling with Alice."

"The….meetings are going well?"

My smile goes deeper. "Yes, they really are. I owe you big time, Cullen."

Edward brushes off this offer with a flick of his hand. "Nah, don't worry about it. It was my pleasure to help you."

"Okay, then, I guess. Uhm. What have you been up to this past month, then?" I inquire, grimacing. Mike Newton is now yelling back at Mr. Banner.

Edward looks at me like he's going to tell me a secret. "I got through to my parents, finally. They're letting me apply to both Juilliard and Stetson."

I think my jaw drops to the ground in shock. For years, all Edward has ever really wanted to do is study music and do something with his piano skills as a career. Carlisle and Esme Cullen have always had steady, reliable jobs and weren't too happy about Edward doing something in the arts for a living. Hell, even Emmett had a dependable job. It must have been hard work to let his parents believe that in a family of doctors, builders and council workers that music was a suitable profession. It's not like Edward wasn't good enough; he'd done all of his piano exams and had won competitions. He could easily get a scholarship if he wanted to.

"That's so great, Edward!" I cry after a moment, which makes him grin like a little kid.

"I'm glad you think so, too. There's been no one to celebrate with. Emmett doesn't really get into the whole Mozart thing," he replies, before taking a deep breath. "The whole convincing my parents thing was why I chucked I hissy fit in the car that day. I'm sorry about that."

Edward's taking a great leap of faith once again and is ignoring my stupid actions – so I guess I can too. His rejection hurt, but it felt as though it was truly in the past.

"Wow. I bet you'll get into Julliard," I marvel instead. Edward smiles, seeing that I understand and forgive him. I take a deep breath, and after a moment, take the plunge. "Maybe you could play for me sometime soon?"

"Sure," Edward replies without a moment's hesitation.

"Really?"

He winks at me. _He. Winks_. "You better believe it, babe."

I pull a face. "Ew. Never call me that again."

"Sweetheart."

"Gross."

"Honey."

"Disgusting."

"_Angel_."

"Okay, shut up, we're getting our assignment!" I exclaim quietly, nudging him in the ribs playfully so that he'll be quiet. He pretends that I've really hurt him. I ignore him and listen to Mr. Banner. I feel kind of giddy. It's just like it's always been between Edward and I: easy.

Everything's falling into place.

Later that night, I procrastinate on my maths homework by flipping through the TV channels. Charlie's trying to persuade me to at least put the news on, but I want to watch some terrible TV. Why isn't _Days of Our Lives_ or some reality talent show on at seven pm? Laaame.

I give up and surrender to the seven o'clock news. Charlie and I are sitting on the couch, watching as the news anchor reports on a disastrous fire in Seattle, when my phone signals that I've got a text. I grab my phone and see that the message is from Edward.

_Hey Bella! What u up 2 2morrow? Wanna watch my excellent fingers play sum piano? Maybe we can work on our bio assignment 2… _

I reply quickly, knowing I have nothing on this weekend until Sunday, when I'm meeting Alice is the local Forks diner again to see if her vision comes true.

I respond teasingly. _Sounds cool, but only if you play me the Harry Potter theme. What time do you want me over?_

_2 sound good?_

I reply after a beat._ Sweet. Cya then._

_Bye xx_

I go to bed, and after waking up from a particularly bad nightmare about Phil coming back to Forks to find me, I stay up and play solitaire on my computer until the ghosts fade away. I try to distract myself to analyzing on why Edward put two kisses after 'bye' in his last text.

It's a very good distraction, because all too soon it's like three in the morning. I go back to sleep for a while, and when I wake up at ten-thirty, I stay in my cosy covers for a while. It's raining pretty heavily, the clouds angry. I reflect on the previous day, what Alice told me, and the resolution I made; the resolution that I wasn't going to shut my heart away from Edward anymore. It's not like I'd be skipping down the aisle to him anymore soon, but I realized that it was time. I was ready.

At one-fifty, I load my truck with all my Biology shit and tell Charlie I'll probably be home late, and not to worry if I don't call, because I'm only going to the Cullens. I dress warmly, in a jumper and even stockings under my skirt, because it's fucking freezing. I make it to the Cullens' house in record time and Esme, Edward's mom, lets me in just as I'm about to knock on their front door.

"Oh, Bella, it's so good to see you!" she says warmly and envelopes me in a hug. We get out of the rain and I sigh as I step into central heating. My hair is now a wet, frizzy mess around my face and over the shoulders of my maroon jumper. I'm glad I wore waterproof mascara. Of course, the weather hasn't affected Esme's hair. She's like the perfect MILF married to an equally attractive husband. It's kinda scary.

"It's great to see you too, Esme," I reply with a small smile.

"Edward should be down in a sec, dear…I don't know what's taking him so long. Edward! Bella's here!"

"I'm coming!" is Edward's shouted reply. Their house is huge, so it echoes. I hear him rambling down the steps, and then, he comes into view.

"Hey!" he greets and easily gives me a hug. I don't freeze, and lean against him. He's nice and warm. His broad shoulders feel nice underneath his thick jacket.

"Hey," I mumble happily after a moment, and I shrug out Edward's embrace.

Esme tells us that she'll leave us be, but that she wants to chat with me later. I tell her I can't wait. I rummage through my big duffle bag and pull out a container. I offer it to Edward. He takes it and opens the lid.

"Double choc-chip brownies," he says, looking at my baking reverently.

I duck my head shyly. "My truck got fixed like two weeks ago, but I never got around to thanking you for giving me all those lifts to school…so, this is my way of saying thanks."

"Yum, thanks! They look awesome," he replies, putting them in the fridge. "And it's good you got your truck fixed. Did that Jacob Black kid fix it?"

"Yeah. He's great with cars."

"You know, I could have probably fixed it."

I giggle. "Hmmm. Let's just leave your talented fingers to the piano, shall we?"

Edward pretends to look seriously wounded by my comment, which makes me laugh even harder. We spend the rest of the afternoon at the piano. I suck at the Harry Potter theme, which Edward tells me imperiously is _Hedwig's Theme_, but whatever. Music is not my forte. Emmett and Carlisle arrive home later in the day after going to a football game. Emmett quizzes me on how he should ask Rosalie on a date. He understands that she's at a sexual assault support group for a reason, but says that she seems pretty interested in him. I try and help him as best as I can; after all, I would be the best person to go to on how to approach a person who's been through something like that. Esme insists that I stay for dinner, and afterwards, Edward and I eventually concede that we should work on our bio assignment.

We head up to his room. I spend a good few minutes looking at his large black desk, his double-bed, his shelves lined with comic books, and his CD collection, before we finally get down to business. I pull my bio textbook and some rough notes that I'd made on his desk. I try and sort through the papers, trying to find the one source that I thought was super interesting. Edward hovers over me, reading. He's very close. So close that I notice his proximity. The feeling between us positively electric. Not a calm hum like that time we got together in his car. It's the feeling that screams _hold me closer_.

"You lied yesterday," he says mysteriously after a long silent moment. I frown, giving up on my search now that he's distracted me.

"Huh?" I reply, turning around to face him.

"You said that we were just two friends. As simple as that. But we're not."

He must feel the electricity too. "You're right. I lied," I agree after a moment. My voice is so low it's almost a whisper. "We're not that simple."

Our mutual wants hang thick in the air, unspoken. I place my hand on top of Edward's, smoothing the skin there, until I run my hand up his arm so that I reach his shoulder. My eyes rake over his body, and I smile as I see I've made him shiver. I meet his gaze, and I notice that he looks nervous, unsure of how to respond to me initiating contact. He's frozen with - what? Fear, excitement, adrenaline? I can bet he's thinking what I am thinking – about the last two failed attempts in his car. They were the only times we _had_ failed. The idea that we _couldn't, wouldn't_ connect on that physical level was foreign. In that regard, we were always there for one another.

I feel like I've grown up since we last really spoke. I'm sleeping better. I'm more focused on school. I'm on my way to stop hating myself. Stop doubting myself. I know in this stormy, quiet moment, I want Edward, _got to have him, need to have him, will have him_.

Edward was always the one who was more sure of himself, more mature, and more controlled. But when it came to sex, when it came to Edward, _I_ was the one who knew myself and how to act. I was rational and rough, whereas Edward was curious and sometimes clumsy.

I look into his strange green eyes. I don't need to say, _I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I'm being such a bitch. I'm sorry I'm so confused. I'm sorry I want help. I'm sorry when sometimes I don't._ Just like he doesn't need to apologize for confiding in Lauren about our summers. We've both fucked each other over lately, so much so that all the awful little things just cancel each other out. I press my lips against his gently, and just like all those summers ago, when he tasted like fifteen-year-old boy and sand, we start on a clean slate.

I tug at the waistband of his jeans, and obediently, he shuffles them off and steps out once they have fallen to his feet. His body is warm and hard as I press myself up against him. Edward grabs me, and leads me back onto his bed, so that we are sitting towards the edge, Edward kneeling behind me. His tongued kisses on my arms, neck and face threaten to distract me as I feverishly tug off my purple stockings and pull down my skirt. Edward helps me take off my jumper, my shirt and my bra. He places a trail of kisses along my back, starting at my tailbone and ending with the freckle that adorns my left shoulder blade. He inhales, revelling in the clean, rainy smell of my milky skin. I pull down my underwear and throw them away, not embarrassed by the fact they are white cotton with blue and green butterflies. I'm too sexed up to be embarrassed.

I move around so that he's facing me. His hot, delicious mouth starts to work on my right nipple, the sound of his tongue against my skin making me gasp a little. _It feels so good_. _It feels just like I remember. It feels __better__._ His tongue flicks and swirls around the skin of my nipple delicately before his lips enclose around it and he sucks hard and good. Edward's teeth lightly skim across the edge, hinting that they'd like to bite. He wouldn't, but the idea excites me. His next suck is painful – _it hurts so good_. "So good." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. I don't care. His mouth slowly starts to depart from my now swollen nipple. He flicks his tongue once more, making me hiss in response. My eyes are closed, but I can imagine his cocky lopsided grin is set on his lips.

I open my eyes, and watch as Edward presses his hand to the breast his mouth has left alone. He massages his long, expert fingers against the thick tissue. The pressure meeting with the resistance from my breast is warm and exciting. Soon, my mouth meets Edward's, and my tongue meets his, and the introduction melts hot and readily as Edward lies back on his rumpled bedcovers. _It's nice to see you again_, _Mr Cullen,_ I think giddily. I crouch over his form.

"Are you ready?" I ask, my hair falling around my face.

Edward's features soften for a moment. "Shouldn't I be asking you the same thing?"

My eyes meet his, so that he can see that I'm truly happy. "I _am_ ready," I say in a low voice.

He can hear the purr.

I watch as he gazes back at me devilishly, hungry for more. His hand slides down along my cool back, caresses across my right cheek, to my thigh, where his reach ends. I can feel all of Edward pressed up and against me. I move backwards so that I'm sitting on my haunches, in between Edward's strong, pale thighs. I can feel that my wet hair is probably a dark, long mess, contrasted against the hazy glow that his desk lamp projects.

My gaze slowly drips down Edward's form.

I smile as I take in his neat figure of fine, muscled arms and a fairly toned stomach. He's certainly not the skinny, gangly boy he once was. I feel a wicked sense of longing as my gaze reaches one of the most fantastic parts of my summerboy. Brilliantly erect, I long to push myself towards him, on him, until he's deep inside. Edward starts to move, sensing what I desperately want to do, knowing how much he wants it himself. I gently push him back down, arching over him so that my sex ghosts his tip. It twitches in response. He groans. My adoring smile thins so that it's a bit naughty. I move back onto my haunches, slowly take his cock into my hands, and get down to work. Soon, his balls are in my mouth, and I'm sucking, nipping, groaning, licking, and rubbing, until neither of us can stand it any longer.

Our mutual desire is intertwined with something deeper that I won't admit, but take _absolute_ pleasure in feeling. Our hard and fast foreplay smooths out into gentle touches and butterfly kisses. My groan is guttural as Edward whispers those three forbidden little words in my ear. I'm wet, and there's something beautiful in the hushed, strained sounds Edward makes. I'm almost sitting in his lap, and his reddish bronze hair screams _unexpected sex_ as his head rests against his bed's headboard. His cock is right there, and in a heavenly moment, he makes his way inside, and thrusts deep within me. Deep, hard, and good. I cup his face, and as the thunderous rain beating the bedroom windows mutes my hushed _thank you_, we make love.

.

I wake up the next morning and can't believe that _I actually fell asleep_. The rain isn't as heavy; Edward's snoring can be heard over it, in any case. I spend an hour being an absolute creep by watching Edward sleep. His snoring patterns are kinda interesting to watch. As I watch his face twitch in response to something he's dreaming about, a jittery sensation starts to scratch deep within me. At first, I try to tell myself that I'm still horny – but after three rounds of sex last night, I feel satisfied. I pull my underwear and the rest of my clothes back on slowly, and snuggle under the warm, cosy covers once more.

I feel cold. But I don't feel Phil's clumsy fingers at my memory-jeans, or my back against that cold, kitchen wall. It's nothing concrete. I don't feel scared lying next to Edward.

_Then what's the matter with you, Swan? Cold feet? You're starting to sound like Renee. Running away for no good reason._

Edward had said those three words last night. _I love you._ It was like it was just an offering, like it had been last summer as we sat by the piano. He hadn't expected it in return. But I _want_ to say it. I _want_ to say it back without being afraid that I've trusted in the wrong person. How can I think that when he's one of the few people I can trust? How can I think that when he cares for me, no matter if I'm that girl from his summers, Forks-Bella-Swan, or someone new and not so shiny? He's perfect for me. Even Jacob likes him, for crying out loud.

Alice said I deserved happiness. But mistakes of a generation past make me choke. The blood-oath Edward and I sworn on that first summer still makes sense to me. I had witnessed unhappiness, and I had vowed I would live a differently unhappy life if I could escape that type of heartache. I had never thought that a different type of unhappiness would come in the form of an almost stepparent's foolishness and the unforgiving nature of friends.

I feel like I've almost reached my resolution. But the niggling doubts and insecurities and fears bite at me until I'm bloody and bruised, a shadow of my former self. The cosy sheets are now cold and Edward's snoring is a muted buzz in the background of my screaming thoughts. I lay, silent, until he wakes up.

I watch as Edward sleepily opens his eyes. I smile lightly.

"Hi," I whisper, guilt dried on my lips.

"Hi," he whispers back in a sleep-slurred tone, smoothly sliding an arm around my waist. We just snuggle for a while, my face burrowed in Edward's chest, his arm around me. All cosy and cute, almost like what a real relationship is probably meant to be like. Finally, I dig up my courage.

"I-I've got to go," I announce unsteadily into his chest. I'm disappointed in myself, just as I'm sure Edward is.

He replies after a moment's pause. "Okay."

I remove myself from Edward's embrace and look at him. I skim my hand across his lovely cheek. "Thank you for not getting tired of forgiving me," I thank him ardently. "And thank you for such a wonderful night. I just need a little more time. I'm almost there, 'kay?"

"I love you."

Those three little words so desperately want to reverberate back to him from deep within my throat, but I lock them inside my lips. My horrible memories of Phil and the actions of my parents keep the words unbidden for now.

"I care about you more than anyone else," I gift Edward instead, and part with a kiss. His returned sleepy, lopsided smile sparks a light in my eyes that had for so long been extinguished that when I get home, Charlie offers to cook breakfast.

I have my reservations, and my fears, but I feel like I'm getting somewhere. If we hold out just a little longer, and I can become more brave, I think things will be great.

I eat two helpings of eggs and I don't even care that Charlie burnt them.

...

_"Doyouwanttogooutwithme?"_

_I raise an eyebrow. Edward looks embarrassed. We're fifteen, and it's the middle of summer vacation. I'm licking the remains of my honeycomb ice cream off of my fingers. "Try annunciating, Edwardo," I tease._

_"Do you want to go out with me?"_

_I frown. "That wasn't part of the deal, that isn't what we blood-swore to," I say warningly. He better know to stop right now._

_"But I really like you," he continues. I put a sticky honeycomb finger to his lips._

_"Suck my finger," I command, trying to remember how Jess did this with Eric Yorkie. He wouldn't shut up, so she distracted him with…other things. I could do that. I could be naughty like that. Hell, I'd already lost my virginity this summer, so what else was there to do?_

_Edward laughs nervously. I grin. I can tell this will be fun. It feels fun. It feels good to be in control. "Suck my finger," I repeated in a lower voice._

_Edward does what I tell him to. And he likes it. _

_By the end of the summer, I become very good at distracting Edward Cullen._

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**A/N: **I love to hear how everyone is enjoying the story and, of course, the Bella/Edward action. Please review!


	10. Cool Breeze

**A/N: **Loooots of dialogue lies herein. Thanks to **PasticheLethe** for doing a fab beta-job on this chapter, and to **Antevorte** for the delivery. It was very curious to find out that 'pickaxe' is spelt 'pickax' in America. Much love to all my readers and reviewers – I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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I sing along happily to the Meatloaf classic that is playing on the local radio. I'm cruising around on a dreary Sunday morning in my beat-up Chevy to Forks' one and only diner.

I can't _wait_ to tell Alice! I, Bella Swan, am almost _there_. I'm dark and twisted but there's still hope. Last night with Edward had proven that for me. I pull into a parking spot by the curb, kill the engine, and hurry through the doorway of the diner.

I head for Alice, who is sitting on one of the red leather stools. I'm almost at her side just as a tall dude stands behind her. He must be one of the waiters – he's holding a tray with a strawberry milkshake balanced on it. I'm about to call Alice to my attention when the tall waiter taps Alice on the shoulder.

I watch in horror. Alice thinks that it's _me_ who has tapped her on the shoulder. "You've kept me waiting," she says, turning around.

She freezes.

"I'm sorry, m'am," the waiter says, making Alice blush deeply in embarrassment. She's totally lost for words. I realize that it's him – Jasper. The older guy that Alice has been crushing on.

Her mouth moves up and down a few times, but no sound comes out.

Jasper smiles. "You ordered a strawberry milkshake, yeah?"

"Yeah…"

I have no idea whether I should intervene or not. I watch on as Alice recovers her voice. "I'm sorry, that was so rude of me," she says, giggling nervously. "I thought you were my friend – my friend who I'm meeting here…"

I walk over so that I'm standing in between them. "The friend who's right here," I announce cheerily. I put my handbag on the counter and smile at Jasper. His hair is wavy, just below his ears, and even though he has some pretty nasty scars along his face, they don't ruin his good looks. He's totally cute and seems really sweet and damn that Maria girl, damn Alice's shyness – I'd be a total idiot to stuff up a perfect chance for them to talk.

"I need to use the bathroom. Would you mind keeping my friend _Alice_ company?" I ask Jasper casually. I leave the two before he has the time to answer no. As I turn around and look behind me, I see I didn't even have to worry: Jasper joins Alice at the counter and passes her milkshake to her.

"It's Alice, yes?" he asks her politely, and she nods, sipping strawberry milk through a red straw in reply. "I'm Jasper."

I wait an extra five minutes before I reappear in the main part of the diner. Alice and Jasper look like they're enjoying their conversation; apparently, they both share a mutual interest in Spaghetti Western movies. I'm puzzled as to how they got to that topic in such a short amount of time, but really happy that Jasper seems interested in Alice.

"Oh, hey, Bella!" Alice greets me again in a joyous tone as I take the stool beside Jasper's.

"Hey," I respond. "Sorry to interrupt, guys."

"No problem," Jasper replies to me easily before heaving a sigh. "I should probably get back to work. But, Alice, you should swing by again some time."

Alice's face flushes with surprise, and she ducks her head shyly at Jasper's words. She looks up at him and replies, "Sure thing."

Jasper grins as he slides off the red stool. "Great!" He tells me it was lovely to meet me, grabs his tray and heads back into the kitchen. "Oh, the milkshake's on the house, Alice!" he calls, accentuating his southern drawl. His facial scars twist as he grins confidently.

"Holy shit Alice, _he's so hot_!" I can't help but exclaim once he's out of sight.

Alice looks right through me, as though she just saw The Light or something. Her mother would be super pleased.

"I didn't see that coming," she murmurs breathlessly. I take her zoned-out-ness as an opportunity to take a long sip of her strawberry milkshake. Yum!

I raise an eyebrow. "Uhm, yes you _did_. Remember? Happiness-in-the diner-vision? The reason we came here this morning in the first place?"

"Oh my goodness, you are so right! Wow. This totally crazy." Alice beams and gives an excited squeal. "_I can't believe I talked to him!_"

"I can totally believe you talked to him. But I think you're missing the bigger picture – he's so into you."

"You…really think so?"

"Alice, he gave you a free milkshake and told you to stop by again. You might as well start picking out baby names."

Alice doesn't get it; she's too wrapped up in being insecure and unsure about herself. "But you've never really dated. How would you know the signs?" she babbles worriedly. "How would _I_ even know the signs? He probably saw a lonely girl and felt sorry for her, so he gave her a free milkshake."

"Uhh, I was best friends with Lauren, Jess and Angela for like six years, remember? They all had boyfriends. Plus, my mom dated loads of guys before she met Phil."

"_He's the one," my mother would say dreamily – "He's the one who did this to her, Renee," my father would argue when Mom brought the incident up –"Bella?" Phil called. "Could you help me with something in the kitchen?"_

I take an extra long, noisy sip through Alice's red straw. "Plus Edward's always been giving me signs….which I just ignored."

"Oh, well then." Alice seems to perk up at this, and laughs jovially. "I guess I'll have to _swing by again some time soon,_ then?"

I laugh with her. "Of course you will!"

We spend the next ten or so minutes discussing, dissecting, and analyzing everything to do with Jasper.

"What's his last name?" I inquire.

Alice deadpans. "I have no idea. Ohmygod, I suck hardcore at this crush thing." She sighs._ "_I must seem so inexperienced and immature in comparison to you..."

"You seem like you're actually trying to start a healthy, normal relationship in comparison," I respond dryly. "But, I….uhm…Edward and I…we…"

"Killed each other with lasers?"

"Unfortunately, no. We had sex last night."

Alice looks like she's about to choke. "WHAT? Why? Are you okay? He didn't force himself onto you, right? Were you safe?"

"I wanted to, I was ready and I initiated it. I'm more than okay." I pause. "We were safe." My _Pride and Prejudice_-inclined brain had tried to gloss over the slightly awkward parts of an otherwise wonderful and whole night. The butterfly underwear, Edward giving a yelp as I cupped his cheek, begging him to take me, because we'd forgotten to grab a condom…but even those memories melted into how I'd slid it on with my lips and teeth and I'd whispered _thank you_…and in the end we'd both had a lot to be thankful for.

"But…you and Edward doing it. That's a big step forward. Permission to say 'I'm proud of you_'_?"

"Permission granted, my dear prophet. I think it's been a big day for both of us."

After a while, I decide it's time for me to head off. I give Alice a daft college reference from Charlie that's been sitting on our little dining room table for about three weeks and I've managed to forget it every single morning.

"Where are you going?" Alice inquires curiously.

"I'm off to conclude my day of moving forward by talking to Brace Face."

Alice snorts. "Good luck with that."

I had to stalk _Ted Hughes Hater_ in the phonebook to find her address – she lives only a street away from Ben, Angela's boyfriend. James Whitlam lives next door to her – he's washing his dad's motorbike in the front yard as he yells at me, "Wanna ride?" I politely tell him, "No thanks, and you've missed a spot on the wheel." I consider telling him to give Ugly Braces Girl the same offer if things don't go as planned.

_Don't go as planned, Swan? That implies you have a plan._

I'd sort of come to Victoria's house on a whim. I had decided earlier that I would follow Edward's advice again and let Victoria know that calling me a slut wasn't helping me or her. Charlie was happy with my progress at school; I had a great best friend who I could trust; Edward and I were back on track (whatever track that was); the support group meetings were actually helping me. I figured Edward's advice had been right, and it couldn't hurt to use it again.

I ring the doorbell. The jingle is annoying and I can't place it. Victoria answers the door, thank heavens, with a black cat leisurely strolling around her ankles.

She looks really fucking surprised to see me. She's so bright in comparison to me: flaming orange hair, blue braces, and red-framed glasses. I'm dull; brown, grey, white and vindictive as hell.

"Uhm, hi, Victoria."

"H-Hi, Isabella."

Oooh, okay. Yeah, she really doesn't know me. No one calls me Isabella.

"I wanted to talk to you," I start awkwardly, willing myself to see this through. "I wanted to talk to you about how calling me a slut every chance you get is not okay."

Victoria winces, and actually looks guilty. "I-"

"I don't really want to hear your excuses, Victoria; but I also don't really know what to say. I could never wish that what happened to me on someone else, and I never want you to have to go through what I've been through." I swallow hard. "But some guy, who was nearly forty, who I thought I could trust misused me in the worst way possible. An-and you're a feminist, so I don't understand how _you_don't understand that calling me a slut because some old guy got horny is wrong, because I know you go to those rallies and sign those petitions saying that even if a girl wears a short skirt she doesn't deserve to be raped."

I'm breathing hard and tears are rolling down my cheeks. Victoria looks like she might break into a million pieces. "It's exactly the same thing!" I continue. "I don't know how I pissed you off, or how I stood for something you were against, but I think it's pretty clear that I am not some whore who gets drunk every weekend anymore."

My fury gets the better of me, and I choke on my tears. I can hear Victoria's mom calling out to her from inside the house, and James Whitlam has turned down his hose so he can hear what I'm screaming about.

"I don't know whether I want to forgive you or even forget about it. I just want you to know that what you were saying was wrong."

Victoria just stares at me.

"See you at school," I mumble, turning my back on her as I make towards my car and stop darkening on her doorstop.

I don't know if she yells out that she's sorry and that she bursts into tears, or that she sneers at my back because _his hands move towards the zip of my light-blue denim jeans_. I let the pain and the creeping touches and the memories wash over me, consume me, because I need to know there is a reason behind yelling at someone who's probably just as insecure as me.

I will not let the guilt choke me. I will not let Phil's stupidity choke me. _His large, spindly fingers brush like ghosts over the straps of my ivory T-shirt_, but I get to _Newton's_, determined to work. He can haunt me, but he can no longer hurt me – even through Germaine Greer's groupie. I'm confident that Victoria will quieten down. I think I scared her.

Work is blissfully boring. Mike is having Jess trouble. Again.

"I think she's seeing someone else," he tells me conspiratorially as we stick price stickers on all the flashlights. He's like a wounded animal, the way he's talking. Even though he's a total pot smoking, porn-watching, fist-pumping ratbag, Mike is also very loyal at heart; whether it's to his family, his friends, his football team – and even to his skanky girlfriend.

I try to smooth over a stubborn sticker with my thumb – _$6.95_ refuses to lie flat. "Why don't you just ask her if she's seeing someone, Mike?" I question impatiently. "You'll know she is if she can't answer you and makes excuses, and if she doesn't she'll probably get mad, but she'll still be your girlfriend. End of story. Eaaasy."

Mike passes me another price sticker sulkily. "I'm afraid of the answer," he mutters dejectedly.

I realize then and there that this is possibly going to be my longest shift ever, the four hours soon to be feeling like ten the way Mike is acting, when some higher power decides to give me a high-five and a customer enters. I peer around the aisle to see who it is. The bell _dings_ a couple of times as the customer crosses over the threshold, shaking his long, wet hair of his eyes.

"Jacob!" I cry happily. Jacob greets me in an equally sunny tone as I rush over and attack him with a big hug.

"Looks like _someone_ took their happy pills this morning," he jokes from above me. I release my arms from around his waist and playfully punch him on the arm.

"That really hurt, Bells," he tells me sarcastically as I shake my fist out, mumbling, "Ow."

I scowl, but a smile finds its way back across my lips. "You saved me from Days of Our Lives featuring Mike Newton, you know."

"Ooh, what's happened this week? Did someone get shot?"

I laugh softly, trying not to draw Mike's attention. "Nope. Jess is cheating on Mike, but this time he knows it."

"Interesting plot twist."

Jacob busies himself in suspecting a pickax.

"So, what brings you to _Newton's Outfitters_?" I ask, after a moment. "Planning to murder someone soon?"

Jacob picks up the pickax and twirls it carelessly around in his hands in way that makes me wince. I'm really glad Mrs. Newton isn't here, or I'd probably be fired for ignoring health and safety regulations.

"I'd just finished dropping Leah Clearwater and her annoying brother, Seth, off at the grocery store, and just thought I'd drop in and say hey, really," Jake replies, putting down the ridiculously dangerous weapon. "Although I was thinking I might swing by Cullen's house later and…" Jake waggles his eyebrows at the axe.

"He's not being a douche bag anymore. I've forgiven him," I explain shortly.

"That was some pretty quick forgiving, then."

I sigh, and see that Mike is watching us from the fourth aisle curiously. I roll my eyes and wave the sheet of stickers in the air. "I'm still working, Newton! Chill out!" I call to him. He gets the hint and leaves us alone.

I turn back to Jake. "I get it. Where's my female empowerment and blah, blah, blah. I just….don't want to fight anymore. I've had enough people hating me for a while."

Jacob snorts. I frown and change the subject, eager to fault him, and ask, "And why would you pick a _pickax_ of all things?"

"He could have supernatural powers for all I know," is the reason I'm given. Jake's being such a boy and totally deadpan about this. "I would need to be prepared, and a pickax is about as dangerous as you're going to get round here. Unless I wanted to go to that medieval weaponry place in Seattle."

I raise an eyebrow. "How do you know that there's a medieval weaponry store in Seattle?"

Jacob shrugs, trying not to look embarrassed. "Embry's a big Dungeons and Dragons fanatic."

"He seems more like a WoW guy to me. Wait a second! Embry? As in Embry Call, the-guy-who-suddenly-forgot-your-ten-years-of-friendship-Embry?"

"It would seem his memory has returned."

I narrow my eyes at him. "He really hurt you, Jake. I sure hope you made him grovel."

"I'm sorry, did you say you forgave Edward Cullen yesterday?"

We stare at each other, neither one of us budging. After a moment or two, I groan. "Fine," I mutter moodily. "I'll drop it. Shit, Jake."

"Ugh, I didn't come here to fight with you, Bella."

I look down, clenching my jaw as I inspect a tea stain on my work shirt. I don't like fighting with Jacob – especially when I can see his point as well as mine. I get that I forgave Edward quickly, but the forgiveness was more than accepting him. It was accepting myself, but I couldn't tell Jacob that without telling him Edward and I had sex, which was no-man's land in our friendship. He didn't ask me about my experiences and I didn't bug him about his girlfriends.

"You came to buy a pickax to lop off Edward Cullen's head, duh."

Jacob places his warm fingers underneath my chin and lifts up my head so that our eyes meet. His brown gaze is kind, playful. "I'm throwing a party next weekend and you better be there."

"Oh, really? Cool!" I grin. "But isn't your house kinda small?"

"It'll be at the Quileute beach."

"Jacob Black, you law-breaker."

"Very funny, Bells. Anyways, invite as many friends as you want."

I count on my fingers. Alice, Edward, Emmett, Rosalie…Jasper? "I have five friends. Is that enough?"

Jacob gives me a mock-pitying look and I roll my eyes. "Shoo, Black. You're distracting me from my busy work."

He looks at the sheet of fluoro stickers. "Mhmmm," he replies with a cocked eyebrow, which makes me dissolve into laughter. Jacob coming into work is the highlight of my shift; oh, that and I finally manage to convince Mike to talk to Jess.

School the next day is all _assignments! Assignments! Get those 5.0 GPAs!_ Mr. Banner actually cracks a smile at me when I get the right answer in Bio, which is weird, since my other teachers are still a bit edgy, afraid I'll make them lose their jobs too. Small towns are so rude like that. Well, I suppose cities are heartless too. Whatever.

In Modern History, we get an assignment asking us to analyze the ramifications of colonization on the Native Americans. Sometimes, it rules to be friends with Quileute boys. Teachers love it when students quote critics, sure, but they froth over someone who can provide a closer account. I vow to myself that I'm going to beat Victoria in the essay – knowing she's all vengeful and is probably thinking the same thing about me.

Edward sits with Alice and I at lunch. He sits with us, like it's completely normal for a guy who should be on the track team to sit with cafeteria outcasts; like everything is cool and normal between us; like he's just happy that I'm happy. Maybe I'm crazy, but I think him sitting with us means that he believes all that stuff is true.

_Face it,_ I think to myself as I tuck into the cafeteria's finest – soggy sushi – and rearranging the uneaten salmon bits on my plate. _Your – what should you call him? Friend? Not-Quite-Boyfriend? Your…Edward is kinda awesome in all his understanding glory._

The three of us spend the first twenty or so minutes of lunch discussing the pros and cons of Alice trying to crystal ball gaze. It started as a joking discussion that came off so far from a tangent that when Alice groans and asked why we were talking about it, none of us can remember. We laugh so loud that I can just imagine Lauren's perfect lips curling. Edward, soon enough, is dragged away by Tyler who spouts off something about football, which leaves Alice and I to talk about the fateful Sunday previous.

An excited smile never leaves my face as she told me what happened: after I had left to deal with Victoria, Jasper had finished his shift and offered Alice a ride home – which, is the interests of seeming aloof and therefore more attractive, Alice had declined. But that wasn't the best part, she assured me. Before she left the diner, Jasper and she had got to talking again. Along with his good looks, charming manners, maturity and swoon-worthy southern drawl, cute last name - which she'd found out was 'Hale' - Jasper has a tragic past. His parents adopted him when he was three years old out of Iran. He'd been abandoned by his biological mother and narrowly escaped being hit by a roadside bomb.

"Holy shit," I swore in reply.

"He said he doesn't really remember much of Iran," Alice finishes telling me. "And he loves his family now."

"That's some good to come after a bad situation, then."

"Hmmm. Yeah."

I smirk. "You've got it bad, Alice Brandon."

Alice tries to protest as I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I'd put it on silent for school. I do a quick sweep of the cafeteria – no teachers around – ask Alice to excuse me for a moment, and answer the person who's calling me without looking at the ID first.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bella, it's Rosalie."

My lips split into a smile. "Hi, Rosalie! I wasn't expecting a call from you today."

"You know me, I like to be adventurous," she drawled sarcastically. "I was calling about the party that you texted me about last night. I'd love to come, as long as I'm not cramping anyone's style, being in my twenties and all."

"What? No way. Just be prepared to be frothed on by juniors."

"Oh, God. Sometimes I wish the Hale charm wasn't so irresistible."

I frown. "Your last name is Hale? Holy crap, are you related to some guy called Jasper who works at the diner?"

Rosalie snorts. "Unfortunately, yes. He's my brother. Why? Did he poison you with one of his garden burgers?"

"Oh, no, I just met him yesterday, that's all. Wait a second! You don't sound like you're from the South at all."

I could practically feel Rosalie rolling her eyes over the phone. "We lived in Tennessee until we were thirteen. Jasper learned to really speak there, so the accent stayed with him. Not that he doesn't put it on to impress girls around here."

"That's so funny!" I wink at Alice. "Jasper put his accent on for you!"

Rosalie sounds puzzled as she speaks again. "Did he hit on one of your friends?"

"Yeah. Uhm, her name's Alice. She's right here. You…kinda called me during lunch."

"Ooops, sorry, sweetheart! Alice, hey? He hasn't mentioned an Alice."

_Eeeek._ I bit my lip nervously. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No…well, if your friend is looking for just a hook-up, it is. But he would only not mention a girl if he was afraid…I would tease him about it." Rosalie laughs, and a shiver runs through me. I would hate to be Jasper right now. "I'm _so_ going to interrogate him when he gets home! Bella, you've made my day. Oh, and yeah, I'll come to the party. Well, I better let you go. See ya!"

Rosalie hangs up, and I slide my phone back into my pocket as Alice looks at me worriedly.

I grin. "I think he _really_ likes you, Alice."

We delve into a discussion so frenzied that Edward waits until Alice heads in the direction of her PE class until he speaks with me. We walk slowly, as the first warning bell has only just rung, and we have a few minutes to dawdle while the rest of Forks High tries to open their shitty, jammed lockers with little success.

"Did you guys solve world hunger or something?" He inquires laughingly. His hair is all messy and perfectly imperfect. I'm pretty sure ninety percent of the girls in our junior year are glaring at me as we walk together down the hall.

Trying to ignore the bitchy looks, I open my school diary to see I have Math this period. Gross. "Not quite," I finally answer Edward. "Just girl stuff, really."

"Say no more," Edward replies with a wave of his hand. "I don't even want to know. You know, my friend, Tanya, said she always thought I was intuitive and shit, but I don't really think I'm all that caring-and-sharing."

"Ehh. You're pretty decent…I suppose."

"Oh, you suppose, hey?"

"Mhmmm." I flash Edward a quick smile and jump off the deep end. Extend the olive branch. Whatever. "How is Tanya?"

"She's doing okay; she sounds a little stressed out at the moment. Her Mom and her baby sister died in a car crash two years ago this Wednesday, so she's trying to deal with how she feels about that, plus do school work, and plus make sure her older sister, Irina, doesn't try and run away from home again."

I can't even find the words to speak. How had I been jealous of the poor girl?

"I babbled too much again, didn't I?" Edward mumbles, running a hand through his hair in an aggravated fashion.

"No, not at all," I reassure him. "I'm just sorry to hear that Tanya's going through all that shit. It sounds like she's had to fill her older sister's shoes." Edward nods drearily in confirmation. "I'm glad she has you, though. You're a great listener." I can feel the blush flowering rosy-red in my cheeks. "You know you can always confide in me."

Edward gives me his lopsided smile. "It goes both ways, Bella."

I look down at my dirty, off-white sneakers, watching as my feet step one in front of the other. Deep breaths, Swan. "Hey, so…uhm…there's a party this weekend that my friend's throwing, and I was wondering if you'd like to come?" My voice squeaks on the end of my wavering question because I'm nervous and trying to kid myself that our electricity is just a hum, and on Saturday night I wasn't wrapped up in Edward's bare arms.

We stop walking at the same time, and I lift my gaze off my shoes and nervously into Edward's eyes. Edward's face lights up like I just told him he was accepted into Julliard. _Fuuuck._

"Is it a date?" he asks eagerly.

I roll my eyes, trying to hide my discomfort. I obviously suck at hiding because Edward blurts out an awkward, "I'm sorry," as I throw at him, "Nah, you can bring Emmett if you want to."

"Oh, cool," Edward lamely replies.

"I mean, Jake's only sixteen, but his friends are really cool, and they always manage to throw a good party," I ramble.

Edward's eyes widen. "Excuse me, but a _good_ party? Like with music, beer, and a bonfire? In _Forks_?"

I laugh. He does always know how to diffuse tension. _Or amp it up._ "It's on the Rez, actually. You'll come?"

"Of course." Then he comes over and gives me a hug. Not an awkward man-hug, or a friend-hug, but a true embrace; just like the one the beach last summer, when all I could do was cry, and Edward caught me up in his warm, strong arms and held me. I hug him back fiercely, revelling in his warmth.

I don't haveto be concerned about Phil, or _the_ _incident_, or Victoria, or Lauren, or the teachers giving me disappointed glances. I have to worry about what Alice will try and get me to wear to Jake's party, how I'm going to approach my history essay, and how I'm going to coerce Charlie into buying me a bottle of cheap vodka.

I can stress for the next week over the simple, boring, everyday teenage stuff. Hell, who knows, maybe soon I'll have the life where I procrastinate on my homework and send drunken _I love you, baby_ texts to a boyfriend, and get grounded, and gossip about movies with Alice.

I'm almost _there_ and it's so refreshing, like being hit with a cool breeze, just to be nearly _there_, in that place where I'm truly happy. The place where I used to be.

...

_I'm fifteen, with my feet up on the dashboard and Bon Jovi blasting out of my mom's small stereo. We're driving to Florida for a camping trip. _

_Renee always likes to do interesting things in places. Never mind going to the beach, the real beach, and learning to rollerblade and sunbathe. We're hiring a caravan – or was it a cabin? I'm not sure – at some stupid camping place._

_I end my game of snakes and ladders on my phone, and with my head pressed against the window glass of the passenger side, I scroll through my contacts to find my best friend, Angela Weber. She's possibly having a worse summer vacation than I am: she's babysitting her baby brothers. _

_Ew. _

_Lauren Mallory and Jessica Stanley, who we've sort of started to hang out with, on the other hand, are having pretty cool summers. Jessica's hanging out with hot boys at some summer-school science camp, and Lauren's dad is trying to out do her mom in their newly-divorced battle and taking her to Hawaii for vacation._

_I stare at my blank message screen, and type the words I hope somehow won't desperately become true. 'This summer is going to be soooo boring!'_

_I hit 'Send' with sigh._

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**A/N:** Reviews are lovely.


	11. Freak Storm

**Chapter Ten: Freak Storm**

**A/N: **I would like to give my sincerest and deepest apologies to my readers for the lateness of this chapter. My beta's internet connection decided to go crazy and hold this chapter ransom. I'd like to shout out to my beta, **PasticheLethe**, and to **Antevorte, **for once again delivering a Summerboy chapter to me. I'd also like to thank **ttharman, secretobsession7, iambeagle, Soni's Angel** and **kisbydog** for their lovely reviews. I finally want to thank my American friend Emily, and also references in American twifics, for providing me with alcohol names and types from which I could jump into researching what USA teens drink and thus place in this fic. No Double Black Cruisers or Vodka O for these guys! Ahhh. Makes me laugh. So, yes: warnings for underage drinking in this chapter. PS. The **next chapter** should be posted in two days' time.

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"My dad is a fucking douche bag who think he knows everything. I get that he's trying to help me, but I swear to fucking God, I just want him to leave me alone sometimes. Hell, a lot of the time."

I look down to my lap as Rosalie's words filter in through everyone's ears in the room. Carmen offers her words of encouragement to continue.

"My dad's a psychiatrist," Rosalie explains. "He tried to classify my fears, give my reactions to what Royce did a name. He didn't see that while it helped him, it didn't help _me_."

Rosalie speaks for a while longer, and Carmen gives her some great advice about what to do in regards to her father afterwards. Carmen speaks from experience of parents who didn't really understand.

Rose's admissions make me squirm. I don't know what I would have done without Charlie's support and understanding. Or even Billy and Jake's, who are like my second family.

I try to convey this to her as we sit next to the sweets table after the meeting has finished for the week. It doesn't go down well.

"That's the point. You had it easy, in that regard. I mean, sure people say bullshit about you. But you weren't locked in a room. You're guy didn't deny it all happened," she says bitterly as she sips her too-hot coffee.

I let Rosalie's comment slide as I can see she's in a bad mood. I watch her somewhat warily. Rose looks like the type of girl that used to be nice. She probably did cheerleading at school, or was the leader of the environment committee in her grade, or helped out at a soup kitchen on the weekend. But this Royce guy obviously fucked her up pretty bad. Ahe's hard and mean, and while I know from experience just how cruel it would be to say she's a better person for what happened, I can't help but wonder if her laugh sounded anything but bitter.

I try to change the subject. "Rose? Edward said Emmett asked you out on a date."

This makes the corners of her mouth lift a little – a ghost of a smile. "Yeah." She sighs before looking me dead in the eye. "I let him know straight away what he had to compete with: my worst nightmare haunting me every day. He said it wasn't a problem; he'd seen Ghostbusters a fair few times."

We laugh together at this.

"Sounds like Emmett," I confirm.

"He seems really sweet."

"Mmm. He looks like he'd be a player, but he's a serious relationship kind of guy. I think you guys would be good together."

"Yeah, well, we'll see. He's cooking us dinner at my place tomorrow night – nice, neutral ground, where I feel like he couldn't take advantage of me, y'know? Not that I think he would." Her smile grows wider. "He really does seem genuine."

I grab my backpack – today, school was in textbook overdrive and therefore I needed something more heavy duty that my usual fake Chanel – and sling it over my right shoulder. I say goodbye to Rosalie, Carmen, and the few other group members that are still lingering around and head home.

Friday – the day of Jake's party – can't come soon enough. When it finally arrives, I can barely contain my excitement. I haven't been out in so long and I haven't felt like going out in forever. It's a big accomplishment, and I can't wait to party.

I drive Alice home after school so she can pick up her stuff before we get ready at my house. Her mom approved Alice coming over to my house once she learned that my father was the chief of police and that we'd just be having an Austen-film-adaptation marathon.

_Oh, Bella, you're so bad._

Alice's house on the inside is as grand as it looks on the outside. We sneak up to her room, stealthily stuff her party things into a big bag, and welcome her mother home from work downstairs.

Mary Brandon is the opposite of Alice. She has long, curly hair, and her real estate work uniform is a horrible orange colour. She's not at all chirpy, or fashionable, but she's polite, at least. She asks me all about my life and doesn't make mention of _the incident_, which I'm sure she sees more as a scandal.

She manages to critique every aspect of Alice's life through finding out stuff about mine while she puts the kettle on for a spot of tea. "Alice, I always said you should have picked Modern History over that dreary Ancient class." "Oh, Bella, I simply adore your jeans. Alice is more of a _mini-skirt _girl." "You cook for you and your father? Why, Alice won't set foot in the kitchen."

I resist the urge to tell Alice's mom off, knowing it won't help Alice's case. I change the subject and tell Mrs. Brandon how we got top marks for our King Lear research task due to Alice's brilliant ideas. She looks amused by this, until she spots something behind me, and snaps, "_Alice Brandon_!"

Alice jumps out of her daze – her vision-seeing daze.

_Oh, shit._

"Sorry, Mom," she says meekly.

Mrs. Brandon rolls her eyes, _tsks_, and goes to pour us some tea. Alice shrieks, "Don't touch it! You'll burn yourself!"

Her mom ignores her, starts to pour the boiling water, only for the lid to come off and spill all over the bench top. It narrowly misses going all over her, but she's still hit with the tiny flecks of scalding water.

Mary Brandon stares at her daughter, wide-eyed with shock. "How did you know that was going to happen?" Her whisper echoes throughout the kitchen.

"Lucky guess," Alice says anxiously. It's obvious that this isn't the first time Alice has been eerily right about something and her mother has noticed.

I decide I should finally jump to the rescue. I bid our goodbyes to Mrs. Brandon, thank her for her hospitality, tell her to wish her husband well from me, and shove Alice out the door before she can catch up. Alice looks glumly out the passenger side window as we drive away from her home.

"Hey, Dad!" I sing out as Alice and I arrive at my house.

Charlie plays the Dad role well and even fixes us an afternoon snack as we talk about our days – aka, I successfully distract Alice from thinking about her mom. He is as pleased as I was that my history teacher let it slip that my Native American essay looks like it might receive full marks.

Alice and I spend the rest of the afternoon lounging around, resting up in anticipation of our big night. I gleefully see a bottle of vodka in the bottom of the kitchen cupboard, next to the lasagne sheets that only I bother to touch. After a while, we head up to my room and chill out. The sun has started to set, and orange glow splaying out through the tree branches haunt my window.

My best girl friend holds up a short, strapless black dress and throws it at me. I pick it up gingerly before stripping and putting it on. It's not as bad as I imagined; the top curves over, making it look like I actually have cleavage. The dress puckers in at the waist and flares out over my hips, ending mid-thigh.

"This is really cute, Alice."

I let Alice dictate what shoes I should wear – bejewelled, silver sandals – and how I should wear my hair – out, straightened with her flat iron – before I call dibs on deciding on my own make up. I go for simple black eye shadow, and make sure to put blush on so I don't resemble a vampire out in the dark with my pale skin. Alice jokingly struts out my bathroom, like she's a catwalk model, in a dark green metallic dress with cat-eye eyeliner adorning her eyes.

"Jasper would die happy if he saw you like that," I tease her quietly, readjusting my dress in the mirror. I'm kinda surprised that it fits both Alice and me, but whatever.

"Well, I'm sure Edward will freak out when he sees you tonight."

We turn up my music and chat about random crap while we finish getting ready. Somehow, the conversation turns to _the incident_.

"Did Phil go to jail?" Alice asks me tentatively. "I mean, I know you have that restraining order on him…but I just always wondered."

I swallow and shake my head. I fidget with my clothes nervously. "No, he's not in jail. But he lives…somewhere else. I don't actually know, now, but I think it's in another state pretty far away. The protection order we have against him is pretty, uhm, like…_big_, though. We had a court hearing and everything, so it's effective for the next two years. He can't contact me through third parties, even, like writing to me, or calling me."

I tug the dress down a little bit so it hugs my figure tighter. "Charlie was really the one who made me get the order," I add after a long moment. "Renee didn't want to press charges or anything – which I guess was understandable since she had loved him and didn't want to see him hurt. I was too afraid, at first, to do anything in case that made him angry and he retaliated – or that it was my word against his, and as there wasn't any other proof, he wouldn't be convicted. But Phil ended up admitting to what he did. …I feel a lot safer knowing that he could go to jail if he ever tried to come near me again."

Alice looks like she doesn't really know what to say. I laugh uncomfortably. "It's kind of a conversation-stopper, isn't it?"

Alice rolls her eyes. "I'm glad that you got the order – but I'm even gladder – gosh, is 'gladder' a word? Anyways! I'm even more glad that you're wearing this dress. It looks hot."

I shimmy on my faux dark brown leather jacket. "My legs are going to freeze," I tell her dryly.

"That's the price you pay for beauty!" Alice giggles.

We sneak down into the kitchen at seven-thirty after dinner and fill up a six-hundred millilitre bottle with vodka and pineapple juice. It's our shared drink for the night. While I would have preferred orange juice, this was going to be one of Alice's first times drinking, so I wanted her to at least enjoy _some_ of the taste. Charlie is ignoring our antics as well as suffering memory loss in regards to him buying me a bottle of _Grey Goose_ as he sits on the couch with the TV guide as his bible. I figured us sharing a drink would be the best way to go. While the old Bella was used to drinking a whole bottle of _La Poire_, the new Bella hadn't gotten drunk in over six months. I wanted to take this nice and slow.

Charlie briefs me quickly on the dangers of drink-driving, and tells me that he will be happy to pick us up if we need it during the night. I promise him I won't drive after drinking. I'm not that stupid. We'll probably end up sleeping in my car.

With the police Chief's warning ringing through us, Alice and I grab our handbags, hop in the car and sing along badly to Britney Spears until we reach the La Push beach. It's totally packed, the party well underway at eight pm.

There's a light, chilling breeze blowing the smoke from the bonfire out to sea. Alice and I gravitate towards the warm glow of the flames. Jacob greets us jovially, already drunk, and surprises Alice by giving her such a huge hug that it lifts her into the air. We laugh, joke, and Alice twists open the water bottle of pre-mixed vodka and pineapple juice we'd made earlier as I steal one of Jake's unopened beers when he's too busy making out with Leah Clearwater to notice. Alice and I survey and weave through the party crowd, looking for faces we know and like and say 'hey' to. I'm almost finished with Jake's light beer, and about to ask Alice for a swig of our shared vodka-and-pineapple, when someone calls, "Hey, Bella!"

I swing around, and I think my heart actually skips a beat. It's Edward who called my name, and he's grinning as he trudges through the thick sand towards us. I can feel myself grinning wildly back.

That is, until I see who Edward is dragging with him.

Tanya.

I'd recognize those legs anywhere; the photograph Edward showed me on our non-date comes to mind as I watch her traipse after Edward, her long to-die-for legs barely wrapped up in denim short-shorts. I'm still in shock as Edward comes over and gives me a tight hug. He warmly introduces Tanya as 'his best friend', who flashes me a smile, and says, "Hey, cute dress," to me before resuming downing what looks like a pre-mix can of rum and coke. The defeated look in her eyes is familiar; it's the same look Forks-Bella-Swan tried to cover up with concealer and eyeliner and mascara. Tanya's not rude, but she's not overly-friendly, either. There's a tiny part of me, deep down, begging to know: Why did he bring _her_ when I invited _him?_ I mean, I'd stressed to him that this wasn't a date – but wasn't it kinda rude to bring another girl along?

But Edward's always had girls for friends. The way he acts with Tanya, Lauren and Alice proves he's just being nice. I decide that Tanya isn't worth worrying about. In any case, Alice doesn't seem to be outraged on my behalf, which has always been a good indicator in social situations. I conclude that Tanya's just another one of Edward's friends he's trying to help. Maybe that's Edward's thing – helping people.

Or perhaps _distracting _them. I get wrenched away from my musings by him slipping a warm hand into my grasp; I look up to see him smiling at me, his head dipped down, the look in his eyes saying _I really want to kiss you_.

I squeeze his hand and obscure my mouth with my bottle as I drain the last of the beer. The alcohol hasn't hit me, yet. "Having a good time?" I ask Edward nervously in a loud voice over the music. Jake's set up his stereo in the boot of his newly-fixed Rabbit, which Embry and Quil seem to be manning for the night.

Edward's breath smells like vodka as he replies to me. "Yeah. Your friend definitely knows how to throw a party!"

Alice seems to have gotten Tanya talking, because when I look around Edward, I see that they're engaged in a conversation – or, rather, Tanya is delivering a drunken monologue. I smile as I see Alice take tentative sips of our vodka-and-pineapple while Tanya is espousing for shots to be poured. Alice notices I'm looking, and I wave her over. While making out with Edward would make for a fantastic night, I want him to know that if we….do…go further, which I've come to accept that I'm almost ready to do, that it won't just be about the physical stuff. We can still be cute together and just talk, goof off and stuff. Adding Alice to the conversation should give Edward the hint.

But before Alice can make her way over, Edward ducks his head and his lips press lightly against mine. His lips are warm and sandy from the grains that whip around us in the wind. I pull away immediately. "Not tonight," I say softly, determinedly. We are more than tipsy kisses. He is more than drunken gropes. I deserve _sober_.

"Hey, Edward!" I can hear Alice beam as she awkwardly walks around the small group surrounding Tanya, who is screaming, "Shots! Shots!" I think Alice is a little tipsy, but she seems content to not really drink much more tonight.

She passes me our drink and I take a small sip. _Ack. I'd forgotten I loved to hate to drink you, Grey Goose_.

"Alice," Edward acknowledges her happily. Our eyes meet, and I understand that he's begrudgingly going to let that moment – that kiss – slide. He notices Alice looking amusedly at his friend from Florida and he laughs. "We pre-drank before we got here," he explains.

"Hey, where's Emmett?" I ask, his comment triggering the question. "You did invite him, right?"

"Yeah, I think he was talking to your friend, Rosalie, over there," Edward replies, pointing back towards the grassy expanse where everyone illegally parked their cars. "Emmett's Sober Steve tonight. Rose's brother dropped her off, I think."

Edward gets Alice's full attention at this announcement. "Did he leave? Her, uh, brother?" she asks quickly.

Edward frowns, and ruffles his hair as he thinks. "Nah, I think he was going to stick around and 'keep an eye on her' or some shit. He said something about maybe skulking around, grabbing a few beers?"

Alice and I turn to each other and practically squeal in excitement. "Oh my god, Alice, you have to go talk to him!" I encourage her excitedly.

"Yeah, I totally should…" Alice starts to reply, but it's like she can't finish. She stares into the fire, unseeing. Edward laughs and waves a hand up and down in front of Alice's face until she snaps out of it.

"Sorry," she says, her eyes snapping up to meet mine, but sounding a bit dazed. "I just have a bad feeling about a phone."

Jacob seemingly stumbles out of nowhere, slaps Edward on the back in what is probably meant to be a brotherly _hurt Bella and I'll slaughter you_ gesture, and laughs heartedly at Alice's words. "You had a vision?" he crows. "That's so f-freaking awesome!"

I snort and pull Jake back by his shirt as he grabs for one of the many rows of shots that Tanya has managed to pour. She's stuck them all out on someone's beach towel in the sand; lines of vodka in little plastic pink shot glasses set out like an army of alcohol. Jake must have gotten the shot glasses on special; they certainly look cheap enough.

"That's enough for you, Jake," I tell him sternly. He whines in protest, but appropriately takes a seat down on one of the long logs surrounding the bonfire – which has steadily been growing larger during the past hour – and stares drunkenly into the distance. I recognize one of Sam Uley's little punks lazing about on the log next to Jake, toking up. I roll my eyes and order Jake to go sit on the opposite side of the fire. This isn't the city, so the hardest drug most students can afford around in Forks is backyard-grown weed. Despite it being relatively harmless considering the alternatives Edward said were passed around at Florida parties, I don't want Jake getting passively high on top of being totally trashed.

I finish my motherly duties for the night and trudge through the sand back to Edward and Alice. I shake out my right foot, trying to get the sand to come out of my sandal, but it's no use. I find Edward taking a shot with Tanya, and Alice looking really upset as she talks into her cell.

She hangs up after a moment, looking like she might cry. "My mom rang me. She _demanded_ that I come home."

I wrap an arm around Alice reassuringly. "Do you want to go? We could even call a cab if you don't want me driving, or Emmett could drop us both back home?"

Alice lets out an infuriated sigh. "You know what? No. I'm sick of doing what she tells me all the time. This is, like, the one time I've ever done anything rebellious. I'll stay and party with you."

"You're sure, Alice?"

"Positive."

I smile widely. "Excellent!"

We spin around as our names are slipping out of Tanya and Edward's inebriated mouths. We go and sit with them. Tanya wants to play a drinking game, apparently, even though she looks like one more drink will send her to sleep. She's wobbling when we're all sitting down.

I'm saved from declining, which would result in Tanya whining her head off, I'm sure, by Mike Newton. He jovially crashes in between Alice and me, shakes everyone's hands, and blows cigarette smoke into the middle of our little circle.

Edward coughs. "Poor asthmatic Edward," I tease with a pout over Alice's giggles at Mike's ridiculous behaviour.

"B-Bella." Mike stumbles over my name. He tries to smooth my hair down, but he kind of just whacks me on the head a couple of times. He's pissing Edward and me off, by the looks of it; he just can't tell. "Bella, Bella, Bella! I was right! Jess was sleeping with someone else."

"Dude, stop hitting her on the head," Edward growls.

I push Mike's hand away. "Uhm, yeah, you're kind of hurting me, Newton."

Mike looks so apologetic that his eyes practically bulge. His huge hand is now squeezing my arm. "I'm sorry! I know you don't like being touched-"

And just like that, I'm ice all over again.

"Whhhhhyyy?" Tanya asks in a small, baby-like voice. "Are you a virgin?" She continues on, going for a whisper but instead yelling loudly. She giggles and nudges Edward in the ribs. "Ooops, I know it's not that!"

Alice tries to change the subject and fails horribly. Mike Newton replies, "No, a couple of months ago, her step-dad or whatever felt her up and she freaks out when you like hug her now."

Tanya mumbles something about how that sucks 'major cock'. I can feel everyone's eyes on me. I stand up, throwing Mike away from me, hard, back on to the sand. I hope it fucking hurts him.

"That is NOT your business to tell anyone, Mike, you GOT IT?" I scream at him. I feel so fucking angry. It's _my_ secret; it consumes _my_ life and those words should only leave _my_ lips, not anyone else's.

But that's how I got here, to be this fucked up and judged all the time. Loose lips.

I grab a couple of shots and tell Edward that I'll come find him later when I don't want to murder someone. He lets me go. I think he realizes that he probably will have to look after Tanya. I look at Alice, pained, and she gets up and follows me.

We walk across the sand, the billowing wind hitting us hard as we look around for a place to sit. Away from the fire, the breeze is somewhat refreshingly chilling.

Is this how it's going to be? Every time someone mentions _the incident_, every time someone makes a pass at me, I freak out? Am I going to be that predictable for the rest of my life?

I take a shot, savouring as it burns down my throat.

...

_I'm sixteen, and I scream like I'm in a horror movie as Edward stands up in our canoe. We're on a nice little river, close to the campsite. We'd both thought it was a brilliant idea to try and go for a 'canoeing adventure' – Edward reasoning that since he could handle a surfboard, balancing a boat-like device couldn't be too hard._

_But here we are, wobbling like there's no tomorrow. I shriek at Edward to sit down, and I have to rise up on my knees to tug his arm to pull him back down. The canoe wobbles dangerously, and we tumble over board._

_I'm pushed down into the murky brown river, and with my eyes scrunched tightly shut, I vow to kill Edward when I get to the surface. I make my way upwards, pushing through the water. But I don't reach and the break through the surface. My head hits the underside of the upturned canoe. I'm shocked by the pain and scared by the fact that I can't reach the top._

_I can barely breathe._


	12. Hail Damage

**Chapter Eleven: Hail Damage**

**A/N:** This chapter was one of the very first scenes, along with the prologue, that came to my mind when I started to write Summerboy. I'm very excited to have it play out. I'd like to quickly note that this chapter is a little _intense_, so please be cautious when reading. Thanks to **kisbydog** for beta'ing this chapter.

* * *

"IT found me again. I thought I could ignore IT. There are four other freshman in here, two hundred female. Plus all the other grades. But he whispers to me. I can smell him over the noise of the metal shop and I drop my poster and the masking tape and I want to throw up and I can smell him and I run and he remembers and he knows. He whispers in my ear."  
_- Melinda, Chapter: Naming The Monster, __"Speak"._

I stare moodily at my translucent vodka shot before throwing it back. My face screws up at the horrid taste. "I seriously hope one of these days that vodka starts to taste nice," I say after a moment.

Alice laughs in reply. "I doubt it."

We're sitting on a large piece of driftwood, far away enough from the party that it's a bit of a walk to approach us, but close enough that we can still hear the music. Someone's having sex in the dunes above us, I think. The loud bass thumps out of Jacob's stereo in the back of his Rabbit.

Alice watches me as I take my last shot – the last of my three lovely, strong shots of vodka. Alice, smartly, has put our one-quarter-left water bottle deep into her handbag. I lick my lips. I'm a little bit more than tipsy; I'm on the verge of wasted.

I find that I can still construct a sentence though, and carry a conversation. Alice and I agree that it was kind of a dickhead move originally for Edward to bring Tanya – I'd invited _him_ – but I eventually have to concede that I'd stressed to him it was not a date (and it actually _wasn't_) and that he probably wanted to cheer his best friend up, who'd been having a hard time. I could only hope that she didn't try to drunkenly make out with him to _Sweet Home Alabama_ or something. I then try and usher Alice to go over and make out – ahem – talk with Jasper Hale, but Alice just laughs and says maybe later. She's trying to play it cool, which I think is a pretty good way to go.

I nearly jump out of my drunken skin when my phone vibrates in my pocket, and then my ringtone sounds. I heave myself up off the driftwood, stumble over the wet sand, and stare at the screen a little way away from Alice and our driftwood.

It's a number I don't recognise. A lot of five's. "I don't know you…" I mumble, and doggedly hit the 'receive call' button. "…Heeeelllo?"

"Isabella? Is that you?"

And my world  
just  
stops.

There is no beach. There is no party. There is no me. Phil's voice and breath is in my right ear. I don't know if his words are slurred or sober, vengeful or broken. I wrench my cell away, end the call, and press my 'hang up' button until it switches off. I wish my fingers would bleed.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Ilethimcallme-howcouldIbesostupid-I'msopathetic-hishandshishands-howdidhegetmynumber-IthoughtI'dchangedit.

I want to throw my phone into the ocean. Anything for Phil to not come near me again.

Alice calls my name. She sounds concerned. I look back at her to see she's standing before the driftwood and choke out, "He called me. Phil called me. He broke the SAPO."

Alice horrified expression freezes but she walks over to me. "Oh, goodness, Bella –"

Tears well in my eyes and make mascara tracks down my face. "What do I do?" I whisper.

"Did you delete the number?"

"No, I just turned my cell off." I thrust the phone into Alice's determining hands. "I don't want to touch it," I say. My voice is wobbly. I feel faint. I clasp my forehead, pushing back my hair off my face. The chilled wind is a welcome feeling. In the background of my life, everyone cheers as their new favourite dance song comes on.

"Bella?" Edward is trudging through the wet sand over to us. I gasp something like, "Oh, God, not now," in response.

Alice looks like there's some sort of strength welling up inside her. I think we both know that I'm about to break apart and that she needs to hold us both up. She clutches my black little cell in a death grip and yells at Edward fiercely, "Go away!

In between the shaking and the tears, I feel proud. Alice wouldn't normally be so brave, standing up to someone she barely knew.

Edward stubbornly marches over to us. Alice grips me around my waist as I sway. The sand crunches against my sandals. Crunch, crunch, crunch.

_Isabella?_ How did he get my number? _Is that you?_

"I said go _away_, Edward, she doesn't want to see you right now."

"What's happened to her? Why is she crying? Bella, what happened? Let me-"

He reaches for me and I back-peddle in a flash. "No!" I yelp out helplessly. I try to say what happened, but I can't, I can't-

"Phil phoned and broke the restraining order rules she has on him, okay!" Alice replies shrilly after a moment. The tension is thick and the wintry wind is cold. "Now back off. She doesn't need your drama right now."

Alice turns to face me fully. She smooths her small thumb against my cheek. "Bella, sweetie? What do you want to do?"

I feel like I'm breaking up inside. I'm shaking all over. "I want to go home," I mumble, like a broken and lost child.

Alice nods in reply. "Okay, Bella. Um, I'll go – Oh, gosh, hey Rosalie! Rosalie!"

The sound of sand moving tells me that my lovely and tough friend is rushing over here. I notice that Rose is wearing skinny jeans and I think, _wow, that was smart, because it's actually getting really cold tonight._

Alice explains to situation, and Rosalie's voice gets dangerously low. _Did she keep the number? What did he say? I'll go get Jasper and he can drive her home._

"No." The negative response comes from Edward. "She should go to the police tonight. Bella, you should tell the cops so they can handle it."

I swallow my salty tears for a moment. "I-I don't want to. I'm s-so…so messed up. I want to go _home_." My voice cracks and my mouth tastes like old vodka. "Alice, please take me home…"

Edward comes over and supports me by holding onto my upper arms. He looks straight into my eyes. His are all green and clear.

I feel like I might throw up. I taste of jelly shots and creeping touches. "If you go to the police now, they can catch Phil right away," he says to me firmly. "Let me help you."

But I push him away. "No," I sob. "I don't want your help, I don't deserve it; I just want to get out of here. Just leave me ALONE, Edward."

I sound like a drunk little girl. And I am. I moan as pain lashes through my chest. Memories ghost my mind. _His hands fiddle with the straps of my white t-shirt…_

Edward doesn't budge. I push against him uselessly. Words tumble out of my mouth like my tongue has no grip on them. "Go. Away. I don't want to talk to _you_ about this. You don't get it. Find some other girl to have a summer fling with. Go have a fling with _Tanya_! Just let. Me. Go." Something like ice falls over me and traps my heart. I become dizzy with panic. Phil's closing in on me. _He's touching my breasts through my shirt and stealing my breath and he's got me. _I can barely sound out my next words. "I just need to _get out of here_!"

Edward raises his voice as his anger grows at the situation. At me. "What the fuck? When are you going to understand that I'm not going anywhere? Or, you know what, maybe I finally _should_. I mean, what's the point of coming back after every year, keeping my distance for someone who won't admit she loves me the way I love her?" he yells. "I knew the idea of commitment scared you because your mum royally fucked your dad over. If you would have asked me to be there for you to call you during these past three years, I would have done it. I _want_ to be here for you now, Bella. I want you to let me in." He punctuates his final sentence with his arms dropped to his sides in a defeated gesture. "I can't wait any longer."

I don't know how my head or my heart can take any more pain at the moment.

_Isabella? Is that you? Is that you? You? You? You?_

_I can't wait any longer._

I can hear Rosalie screaming at Edward - something about being a bastard, saying stupid things, and a panic attack. I think I'm hyperventilating, or something. I suck in too much air because suddenly there's no breath in my body. My world wobbles, and Alice somehow directs me to sit down on a piece of driftwood with her. I do as she says when she tells me to put my head between my knees. She tries to make me breathe right.

It's forever, or maybe five minutes later, when Edward dares to come near me. My head is tucked into Alice's embrace. Rosalie sits next to me, not touching. I'm glad she's just there.

Edward takes a deep breath, and I lift my weary head to meet his gaze. He swears in a low voice. "Fuck, I – Look, I'm not sorry for what I just said, but I really could have picked better timing. Emmett and I will drive you home, okay? Everything's going to be fine. I promise."

Edward sits down with me as Rosalie runs to get Emmett. He goes to cradle my face in his hands, realizes I'll probably freak, and instead squeezes my cold, shaking hands. "It's okay, Bella. It's okay," he tells me over and over again, like a mantra. It hypnotizes me as I _gasp gasp gasp_ for air, because I can't _breathe breathe breathe_. "He's not here, he's not going to get you. We're going to take you home to your dad where you'll be safe. Shh. Calm down. I've got you, Bella. I've got you."

The interior of Edward's car is jet black, the night sky shadowing us. Emmett drives. Edward sits in the front seat. Alice tries to soothe me, saying, 'Shhh.' My sniffles and ragged breathing almost eclipse the Cullen brothers' argumentative whispering about what to do when we get to my house. I don't really know what I'm saying. I'm saying I'm scared. I ask how Tanya will get back to Edward's, and I add her to my guilty conscience. Edward reassures me that she has her own car and will ind her way back in the morning. He adds that Jasper took Rosalie home. I apologize to Alice repeatedly because her mom's probably going to kill her for not going home. Alice tells me her mom can go fuck herself. She hugs me tighter.

I find a place on the car floor to fixate my gaze, and sure enough, the car ride is fast as my panic slowly starts to subside. We get to my house, and someone unlocks the door with my keys. The living room lights are on. Someone calls for my dad in a panicked voice.

"Bella?" Charlie rushes over to my shaking form and grips my upper arm. He doesn't speak with the voice of an authoritative cop. He speaks with the voice of a father. "What happened to her?" he demands quietly.

Another sob racks through my body.

"I'm s-sorry, Daddy," I blurt out. How ashamed, frightened, and sick I feel scares me.

I can't look in his eyes. I shrink back into Alice's form. She tells the boys to explain it, and she takes me up to my room. As we walk up the stairs, I turn my hunched form around to see Emmett explaining to my dad what has happened. Edward looks as white as the sand we walked on tonight.

The lights are bright as Alice flicks them on. My thick duvet looks like the perfect deep purple sea to drown myself in. My head hurts from all the crying, but I can't stop as I shakily lie down and curl up in a ball, my head resting on my pillow. I just want to be alone. But all I want is for someone to be with me.

"Alice," I whimper, then swallow thickly. She kicks off her shoes, takes off her earrings, turns my bedroom light out, and pulls the covers over us. Alice clutches my waist with her tiny arm, holding me close and safe. She cries with me.

I fall asleep, exhausted, and dead to the world when Charlie comes in an hour later, smoothing my hair sadly, and thanking Alice for helping his little girl home.

...

_I'm sixteen. There is no air left in my lungs, no breath to be caught in my throat. There is water, and there is darkness._

_Then, pain rattles through my body as I choke and splutter and cough sea-salty water. There is air to be breathed; I'm back in the canoe. I heave and gasp for air as I twist my body around. Edward had me on my side, the way they taught him in lifeguard training. _

_Edward pumped air back into my lungs and pushed a beat back into my heart. He saved me._

_It takes another year to realize that whenever I'm drowning, he's always there, reaching in the murky water for my ice-cold grip. He knows, he asks, he reassures, he hugs; he's there._

_Edward Cullen is like some fucked up real-life metaphor. _

_He's always there to save me._

* * *

**A/N:** A few people have expressed they don't know how much Bella wants to be with Edward, so I thought I'd say this: I think by now it's obvious that she does – it's just that their romance isn't the sole focus of this story. Her life doesn't revolve around 'Oooh, do I let down my walls and let Edward in my life?' It's more, 'How do I let him in my life when I have trouble with my life myself?' Let me know what you think of this chapter!


	13. Clearing Sky

**Chapter Twelve: Clearing Sky  
A/N: **Thanks to everyone for patiently waiting for this chapter! It took a while because I knew I had to get Bella's speech to Edward _just right_. A big shout out to **Mrs Clare Malfoy**, an old and best friend, for her lovely reviews, and to **Caitlin** for pre-reading this chapter. This is the last chapter of Summerboy (also the only un-beta'd one). The next will be the epilogue. But have no fear! You can check out **a missing-moment from Summerboy**; it's called "You" and is in the stories section under my profile. Uh, other things: The song referenced at the end is 'I Touch Myself' by The Divinyls. The epilogue will be posted next week (so look out for teasers!)

* * *

I wake up at eleven twenty-three the next morning with an emotionally-charged headache/alcohol-fuelled hangover and a note on my dresser. It's written in Alice's big, loopy handwriting.

_Call him. _

Alice must have left earlier in the morning; I hope she didn't get in too much trouble from her mom. Everything that happened the night before previous begins to weigh me down until I don't want to move from under my bed covers. But I know I need to get up. I threw the covers off myself, strip, and haul myself into the shower. I scrub at my body and face, letting the water wash away everything bad. I let the memories of Phil's voice be washed away, just for the moment. I need to be functioning when I talk to Charlie.

My hair is a wet mess, my t-shirt is too old, my jeans are a season out of style and there's still eyeliner smudged along the line of my lashes. Resigned, I open up my curtains, open up my door and come face to face with Charlie in the dining room where he's seated, newspaper in hand.

I try really hard not to cry as I explain in my own terms what happened last night, and I see that Charlie finds it hard to stay strong for me, too. We're close in a way that we shouldn't be; this should be my mom's territory. But she isn't here, and doesn't want to fight hard enough, so my dad becomes my rock instead.

Charlie takes a sip of his coffee and looks at me steadily. "We need to go down to station this morning, Bella. We need to report it."

At those words, I burst into tears. I'm such a mess I can't even explain why I'm crying – maybe it's stress, or remembering the last time I reported my mom's boyfriend. Whatever. Charlie, ever astounding in the uncomfortable dad role, pats me on the back and fixes me breakfast. He gives me bacon and eggs, and I don't even bother to remind him that I'm a vegetarian. He's so good to me, I think I can forgive him for forgetting my eating habits one time.

We drive to the station, go in the back way so we don't have to deal with the awkward 'Working on a Sunday, eh, Chief?' questions. It's not as bad this time, reporting it. Charlie's workmates are always nice to me – one of them gives me a chocolate bar from the vending machine with a sympathetic smile across her face. We talk about possibilities: what they'll do when they apprehend Phil, what he can be charged with, how I can assure my safety. Charlie lets me play the radio really loud on the drive back home so we don't have to talk.

The day has been slow; like I'm only half-awake, distracted by anything.

I make us mac and cheese for lunch, pop some ibuprofen for my headache and fall asleep on the lounge trying to avoid thinking about anything or anyone. I wake up at two and start reading _Northanger Abbey_ again. Jacob drives my Chevy back and conveys his apologies in a hug that cuts my air supply in half. He lets me lean on his chest as we watch some terrible Christmas movie on TV – only proven more terrible by the fact that it's nowhere near December. I remember why he's my best friend as he talks all about Leah instead of asking me stuff that I don't want to talk about.

At four, Jacob's gone back home after he finally admitted that Billy grounded him for throwing the party, and he had to jump out the kitchen window _like some wolf-ninja, aw, you shoulda seen it Bells!_ just to drive my truck back. Charlie uncharacteristically keeps hovering near me, so I go up to my room. I feel like Alice's note is actually a big neon sign as I sit on the edge of my bed.

When I feel as though I can't ignore it anymore (_can't ignore him, can't ignore how I feel_), I grab the home phone and dial Edward Cullen's cell. It's such a simple action for such a monumental result.

He says _Hello?_ And I say, _Hi, It's Bella. Uhm…_

"I remembered that I forgot to give you, uhm, the bibliography for our bio essay." _Great lie, Bella. Really, you could be on Days of our Lives with that type of acting prowess._

Edward doesn't miss a beat. "You could email it."

"Okay, I need to see you," I confess in a tired rush. "I _really_ need to see you. I need to explain in _person_."

It feels like I wait a millennia for him to answer. Finally, he says, "All right," and tells me he'll come over to my house in half an hour.

I nervously wait outside on the porch, scratching the white paint off the railing until his Volvo eventually appears in my drive. Anxiety rises up inside of me like vomit. This is something I _shouldn't can't won't_ run away from. I can't hide from things anymore. Hiding from my feelings stuffed Edward and I's relationship around. Hiding from Phil's phone call stopped the police from cracking down on him straight away. Even though I don't blame myself for how I acted the night before, I want to take full responsibility for all that I've done to Edward. I've treated him like he was nothing when in reality he was _everything_.

We awkwardly greet each other. Edward's face is full of shadows in the fading light of the setting sun. We both sit down on my front steps under my direction, and Edward lets me speak.

"I need to apologize to you," I say to him, and straight away Edward launches flawlessly into his nicest-guy-in-the-world mode and tries to interrupt me. I raise my voice and politely tell him to be quiet, _because you need to hear this and I'll never get it out if I can't say it all at once_.

And so, I try my hand at a redemptive monologue worthy of _King Lear_. I look Edward dead in the eyes and trip over my words as I say, "I love you."

He stares. I talk.

"I thought that being in love was going to be this major grown up thing with fireworks and forever, but I know that it's not. I love you as much as I can in my own, strange teenage way. I have for ages and I'm _so_ sorry that I never said it back. I was stupid not to trust you enough or myself enough to let you know that you one are of the few best things in my life. This past year…" I pause to swallow the sob in my throat. "This past year I've learned that I need to let other people in and lean on them or I'm fucked. If you and Emmett and Alice and everyone else hadn't been there last night, I don't know what I would have done." My voice cracks and I can't help screwing up my face against the terror and sadness that latches onto me. "T-thank you."

I wipe my forearm against my nose, sniff, and continue. Edward takes my other hand. I wish he wouldn't, because I already feel so guilty, but I know it would be wrong to push him away.

"I want to forget what happened between us last night. I know you felt bad about what you said, but it was true. I really have fucked you around all these years. And, I mean, for what? I've wasted so much of your time. Of my time."

Edward shakes his head emotionally at this statement, but I soldier on. "I want you to know that what you said last night didn't suddenly jolt me into realising that I loved you. I always had, and I had known that I'd been messing us up. I was just so scared. I think what happened with P-Phil just made it, like, a thousand times worse…"

I take a breath and try to blink away a few tears. My face feels so hot from all my crying and nervousness and the hot dying sunlight splayed over us. "Uhm, so, I just thought you more than deserved me telling you how I really feel. I'm not apologizing so you'll forgive me because I don't deserve you to. You already stuck by me through the incident and I felt like more people should have done that – that type of support I deserved. But I _am_ guilty of screwing you over for a reason that slowly became worthless to me." My voice gets really squeaky and I have to wait a few moments before I can talk again clearly. I struggle to, but do it anyways. "A-A week ago I would told you I l-l-loved you. I hate that I have to do it now when I'm so upset. I _hate_ the fact that what Phil has done has made me tell it to you like this when it should have been something _special_."

I wipe my eyes to see that Edward's has tears in his too, although he's just short of crying. How do boys do it? Edward takes my other hand and grips them both tightly in his grasp. "It still is special, Bella," he says as he sucks in a breath. "And I don't care that you stuffed me around-"

"I do," I interrupt him in a horribly cracked voice. "_I do._ I didn't tell you this so I could have your forgiveness, Edward. I did it so you'd understand that I know I did wrong by you, and how I feel. And why I acted last night. I know me confessing my love isn't going to make it all better. It shouldn't."

But then, Edward reaches forward and presses his lips to mine. I can't even kiss him back. All I can do is tremble in the wake of my mistakes.

Edward pulls me into his arms in a swift move and I try not to cry into his chest. "Too bad," he says into my hair. His thumb smooths along my jacketed upper arm. His voice is shaky and he summons strength to tell me things I feel like I don't deserve to hear.

"I accept your apology," he replies after a moment. I move away from him, push my hair back off my face and look at him as he talks. His translucent-green eyes are red-rimmed and blood-shot. He's like a beautiful mess. A mess I created. "Bella, you had the best fucking reasons to do those things. Yes, it made me angry. But only because I could understand why you did what you did."

And my world stops again. Halts for a second. Halts for a good thing.

I don't think my body could be more tired and sore as suddenly I close my eyes and understand and accept what Edward says. I feel like I've lived through a thousand lives in the space of two days. I feel like I've had more revelations than a repentant religious person. I let Edward know I believe him.

I slump against the railing, my head thudding against the white wood. Edward takes my left hand again. He runs his other hand through his brown-red hair. "You love me," he tests out after a moment of exhausted silence.

I smile tiredly. "Yup."

Edward's lips return a lopsided grin a little half-heartedly. If we weren't so tired from it all, I'm sure he'd be laughing with happiness. Is it weird to be confident in the fact that someone loves you back? Is it arrogant to assume? I don't really know the answer.

Edward becomes fixated with the ants that are scurrying along the porch as he asks, "What happened with Phil in the end?"

I sigh. "Dad and I went to the police and reported it. They don't think Phil is much of a runner, so they reckon they'll have him in custody soon enough." I pause, swallowing. "He'll probably go to jail," I say quietly.

Edward nods, before locking his electric gaze onto mine. "And you?" he says roughly.

"Charlie thinks I should go see a counsellor. Get some one on one treatment as well as going to the support group in town."

"Do you like that idea?"

"I think it's worth a try. The idea of Phil always haunted me, and made me anxious, but last night was the first time I'd ever had a real panic attack over it."

"You know you can always talk to me, too."

A ghost of a smile spreads along my mouth. "I know," I say firmly. "And I will."

Edward looks pleased about this. "Good," he says in a quiet tone.

My fingers get anxious locked in Edward's for so long, and remove my hand from his for the moment. "Would it be okay if we start slow?"

He nods in understand. _He's the boy who always understands. _"Slow would be wonderful."

I breathe a sigh of relief, and I pull at the skin under my eyes. I'm so, so tired. Edward takes this as his cue. He gets up and helps me to my feet. He steps closer to me, so that I can see his tear-highlighted eyelashes and the stubble growing along his jaw. This closeness is so simple. So nice.

"So, you'll email me the bibliography tonight?" he asks. "Because then our assignment is done and on it's way to getting an A."

"Sure thing."

"Will you be at school tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure I will be; I'll text you if I actually sleep in or something."

Edward's reassuring hand finds pressure against my shoulder and squeezes it gently. "I would understand if you didn't go, Bella."

I wouldn't dare to try and count the number of times I am astonished and humbled by Edward's understanding. It makes me choke up a little. "Normal guys would run," I sniff in reply, a watery smile slipping on my lips.

Edward rolls his eyes. "I _told_ you I'm not normal," he says before baring his teeth and swiping at me like some cute, seventeen year old Floridian vampire.

This makes me snort in response. Jokes are a great weapon against weepy girls. "Keep dreaming."

"Aren't I already?" he replies dreamily and leans in for another kiss. He gets teeth because, suddenly, I'm laughing so hard.

.  
Two weeks pass by in long drags. It seems like an age since Jacob's party. So much happens. So much stays the same, stuck. Renee calls, and although she doesn't say everything I'd like to hear, she apologizes and frets about me enough that I forgive her. We talk about me and Edward being together, which she pronounces as 'fate', and start to make plans for the commencing summer vacation. When I put on my make-up in the morning, I don't put my Forks-Bella-Swan face on, or my vacation-Bella face on. My foundation and mascara and cherry lip gloss and blush all scream _me me me_. Weird, crazy, on-her-way-to-happy me.

Suddenly time flies, and Alice and I are in English, sitting up the front like always, ignoring out teacher like we're too cool for school. We talk about Jasper, and when we think he'll ask Alice out on a real date. Alice's money is next week. I bet this afternoon.

I get a text full of a thousand and one exclamation marks hours later, and for once it seems that Alice is wrong. Alice's mom may sure have a thing against her visions, but I can't imagine her having a problem with someone as nice as Jasper. I turn to Edward, who's chugging down a glass of lemonade I just poured for him.

"Looks like we have more to celebrate," I tell him, waving my new silver cell phone in the air. "Jasper asked Alice out!"

Edward pretends to shriek joyfully like a little girl. I think he's trying to imitate Lauren Mallory, but I'm not sure if he has quite the nasal quality.

We're in the middle of having an informal date of our own; a celebratory date. We topped the class in our bio assignment and decided to congratulate ourselves by eating our body weight in junk food. It's crazy to think that after all that's happened I'm actually having _fun_. We get sillier and sillier, laughing louder and louder at each other's terrible jokes until we finally take it up to my room. Charlie doesn't mind if I shut the door – and this afternoon, judging by our antics, I'm sure he'd prefer if I did.

Edward runs a hand over me, and memories don't creep up on me this time. He lurks around my room, inspecting my well-worn Austen books, my dust covered PlayStation, and finally turns on my ipod in its dock. Edward saunters over to me as the final seconds of the song I was previously listening to tick over, and the next song in my playlist comes on.

It's obvious Edward doesn't know it. He wraps his arms around me, and kisses me hard as the chorus comes on. He tastes like lemonade and lolly snakes. He hears the line, "When I think about you, I touch myself," and wrenches his lips away, staring at me with a funny look his face. His expression seems to be saying, _uh, explain?_

"Alice's music lost the battle with my collection of eighties crap," I answer embarrassedly. I can feel myself blushing as Edward pulls him closer to him. I really need to turn off that music. But…I really need to stay up against Edward, where I can feel _all_ of him.

Edward's right hand wanders below my hips and finds its resting place on the right cheek. He gives it a squeeze, which makes me yelp in surprise.

"Edward!" I half shriek. I'm glad Charlie has his game up loud or we'd be in big trouble. Edward laughs at me, his breath hot on my forehead as I look up at him. "When did you get so confident?"

A little bit of the unsure-Edward surfaces on his face, but his wicked hands continue to smooth along my short-shorts and place pressure against the warm skin of my stomach. "Well, I figured I could get a bit more adventurous with you as my girlfriend," he replies. I can tell he's trying to be suave, but it's all too obvious that he knows the 'g' word used to be a death sentence for our relationship.

I take hold of his strong upper arms and give him a kiss, warm lips to warm lips. "You haven't asked me out, yet," I barely breathe against them.

I feel Edward's tongue as he licks his lips nervously. I know he'd run his fingers through his hair right now if we weren't in such as position. I mould myself closer to Edward's lean body and look up into his translucently green eyes. My fingers stop the question from leaving his lips. I take it instead.

"Would you like to be my boyfriend, Edward Cullen?" I ask.

Edward nods, but doesn't need to whisper yes. We kiss and fool around and make love to my selection of bad eighties music. I lay with Edward still inside me as we talk about biology and college preferences and gossip about people at school and troll through my camera for embarrassing photos of Emmett. Edward kisses me as I confidently think _I love you I love you I love you_, because it's such a simple and easy thing to do, and watch as Edward smiles like the boy I met all those summers ago when I quietly whisper it in his ear.

...

_I'm fifteen when I sit down by the wharf, already a little bored with this vacation. Renee can't stop texting her new boyfriend and is completely oblivious to my boredom. I can't play tennis by myself, and I would just look like a total fool if I tried to join in playing soccer with the rest of the local boys at the campsite._

_I'd gone down to the wharf in desperation, thinking that maybe if I stayed out long enough I'd get a tan instead of sunburned. I'm sitting at the edge in the dazzling sunlight, watching the water ripple out with a light breeze when I see him for the first time._

_He's a pale as me – I think that's what draws my attention first. He's made up of all kinds of crazy colours; orange-brown hair, ghostly white skin with a few freckles here and there, and weird eyes that aren't quite green or hazel. I guess he is around my age. He certainly seems tall enough; although, he isn't as muscled as Tyler is starting to get back in Forks._

_In this instant, I think to myself that I should try and talk to him. Jess and even Angela were getting guys all the time – way more than the couple of kisses and gropes I'd had at parties. This kid had the face of a movie star, all handsome and wholesome, and I'm bored._

_What could go wrong?_

_I get up and introduce myself. He tells me his name was Edward. He's on vacation too, with his family. But it isn't really a vacation, he assures me, because he actually lives in Florida. I excitedly ask him if he knows how to surf, and he says yes, I should teach you some time, and then his mouth moves into the cheekiest, cutest, lopsided smile I've ever seen._

_I feel like I'd be shivering if it weren't so hot. I agree flirtatiously that he should teach me sometime. We talk for a little bit, doing the general background swap, before Edward explains that he'd come down to the wharf to jump in for some fun. _

"_Obviously you haven't felt the water today," I say, laughing. "It's freezing!"_

_"Really?" is the reply I got as Edward rushes forward and plunges into the icy water. I shriek in surprise and run towards the edge. It had to be, like, a bajillion degrees way too cold!_

_He resurfaces, laughing. This boy, Edward, looks at me, and gives me the most devilish grin ever. "Chicken?" he calls out, taunting. _

_I narrow my eyes. Well, well, well. Sweet, cute, __and__ confident. Edward definitely had me intrigued. My summer was already looking up._

"_Never," I boast in reply. Edward spread his arms wide, inviting me into the water._

_Without considering the dangers, the risks, or the consequences, I dive headfirst._

_Fearless._


	14. Epilogue: Sunshine

**Epilogue: Sunshine**

_We are calling it theft  
As if he could pluck open your ribs like cello strings  
Pocket your breasts, steal what makes your heart flutter and tack its wings to his wall,  
Some days you will feel dirty!  
Some days you'll remember how hard it is to breathe in public, like your heart beat is climbing to the attic of your throat only to suicide itself out on the pavement  
But know this: the person who did this to you is broken, not you. _  
- Sierra DeMulder, Paper Dolls

* * *

It's a sunny day for Forks. Time has passed; weeks have blurred into months. I'm sitting by the Cullens' pool reading _Northanger Abbey_ for the fourteenth time. The pool is perhaps their one sign that they came from Florida. Rainy old Forks renders awesome things like pools unnecessary.

Esme comes outside to tell Edward and I that she was just on the phone to Renee. Esme seems really excited about my mom's ideas for this summer's vacation spot - I think we all need a break from that caravan park, too. We might go somewhere with snow this summer, just to switch things up a bit.

Emmett and I could tag team and make Edward into a snowman. My fingers itch for my camera already as I imagine a picture of Edward's carrot nose. I smile as Esme heads back into the house, loving the feeling of the sun on my skin; so warm, so nice. I move my feet through the crystalline water. My cherry-red toenail polish becomes a cerise blur as I smooth my feet around. The sunlight flashes quickly across the aqua water.

Edward motions for me to come into the water, his translucent-green eyes alive and reflective. "Hop in! You know you want to…." he calls teasingly.

I shake my head in reply, my smile deepening. The water's _cold_. Besides, who was I to miss the chance to finally stop being mistaken for someone without a pulse? I strike a cute pose, flaunting my navy-blue bikini.

"You know you would rather watch me sunbathe, loverboy," I drawl back to him.

Edward doesn't have much of a response to that. I grin.

My life has seemed to have changed for the better over these past couple of months. Sure, there's future stuff about school, careers, college, birthdays, marriage, babies and happily ever afters to be said, but _blah, blah, blah_. That's the stuff that fills your life while you're living it.

I don't even have to summarize what my circumstances are in regards to my old friends. They're no longer even in my life, thank God; though, Jake's still awesome. I'm also on my way to getting a 5.0 GPA. Renee calls every week, though, which has been new and unexpectedly motherly. Phil doesn't try to again. Since that call, Charlie and I have become closer.

_Look out, potential assaulters. The Swans are a SAPO force to be reckoned with!_

Alice has really become my best friend. Now, I can tell just by looking at her when she has something to tell me, when she's having a bad day, or when she's going to bust out a quote from _Mean Girls_. Her visions are still freakin' awesome. Her mom's settled down a bit – I think she may even secretly approve of Jasper. Jasper's parents, on the other hand, _love_ Alice. Rosalie jokes that Alice is going to replace her in the Christmas photo this year. Speaking of Rosalie, she's still her same old self; her deep heart as hard as marble, still beautiful, still lovely, and still willing to make others feel okay.

I'm a bit like Rose, I'd like to think. This new Bella is still a little fucked up, and sometimes she just wants to be alone and drown in her despair and _the memories the memories the memories_. But then she remembers how terrible _alone_ feels, and goes to her weekly support group meeting and talks to someone.

Someone like Edward Cullen. Who, by the way, is also a swimming _champion_. He seriously needs to stop being so talented. I watch him practice his butterfly stroke in awe - I can barely dog paddle well. I think he's splashing around a bit on purpose, though, to get me wet. Edward's definitely a handsome, cocky little tease – but it's hard to forget how kind, gentle and good-hearted he can be.

It's in part, thanks to Edward, that I have hardly any nightmares anymore. Edward nudging me into the Forks Abuse Program sexual assault support group really did the trick. Something in me changed when I found out I wasn't alone and that other people could truly understand.

People at school don't whisper things about me as much – I think that's been the major change during the past couple of wintry months. My attitude has changed, and so has _theirs_.

I know I didn't do anything wrong.

And I know, as I watch Edward shake the water out of his hair and grinning as it hits me, that what we have isn't perfect. We're one cute couple who laugh all the time and have great sex, but I'm not about to be all sunshine and rainbows and put on my Forks-Bella-Swan face.

My guarded heart sometimes comes between us, resurrecting our once-forgotten blood sworn oath. Sometimes it gets as bad as last summer, that day where I could only look at my sand covered toes and mumble apologies. Often, Edward needs a break from constantly dealing with my moments of doubt and insecurity and bad dreams, and we spend days without contact as he takes out the breath he's been holding through his touches on his ivory piano keys. Things just haven't _gone away_ because I've made a resolution and gotten control over Phil and his creeping touches.

But things have gotten _better_.

Other times, I brush off the sand that conceals the vulnerable parts of me, and I let Edward see them. I tell him _I love you_ until he's sick of hearing it. We pass notes during bio. When I sleep over at his house, and Phil's unforgiveable touches creep into my mind, Edward holds me until it's over and hums sweet lullabies until I sleep.

I know that we're so imperfect that we're bound to last.

And that's what we do.

* * *

**A/N:** I feel like sobbing. _Summerboy_ is the best, and the most heartfelt, thing I've ever written. I put a lot of myself into this story and I'm so grateful for all of the wonderful feedback and critique that you have given this story. I'd like to thank **PasticheLethe** and **kisbydog** for their beta services; to **ttharman** and **Minnakoda** for sticking by _Summerboy_ from the start; to **tonks-shadow, Mrs Clare Malfoy** and **Caitlin**, for being my best real-life readers; and to Laurie Halse Anderson, for always writing books that inspire me. I'd lastly like to thank every woman who speaks up against, or about her experiences of, sexual assault.  
You are beautiful.


	15. Outtake: You

**Uuupdate 3/6/13:** I thought I'd finally stick this on the end of Summerboy since it seemed like some Summerboy readers might have missed it on my profile as a separate fic! This outtake is set in the summer shown in the prologue, and was written for Fandom for Sexual Assault Awareness in 2011. Thank you to everyone who contributed to _F4SSA._ I felt that, given the premise of Summerboy, it was a very worthy and wonderful cause to write an outtake for. Kind of a sad way to cap off the more optimistic end of _Summerboy_, but just keep last chapter's vibe and the DeMulder quote in your mind :)

**Summary:** Bella's summer after "the incident" isn't like the others. She's broken her mother's heart, she's haunted by a man's foolishness, and the clouds are crying. And then, there's Edward. A Summerboy outtake for F4SAA.

**Trigger warning** for content alluding to a past sexual assault of a young woman.

* * *

_You don't want me, no, you don't need me.  
Like I want you, no. Like I need you, no.  
And I want you in my life. And I need you in my life.  
You can't see me, no, like I see you.  
I can't have you, no, like you have me._

_"You" – The Pretty Reckless._

The clouds are crying, sobbing. I watch as their tears streak down the window as I press my forehead against the cool surface. Renee has the heat up in the car. The chill is welcomed.

Renee has the radio up really loud, too. I think she's justified the level of volume by the fact that she_ totally loves this song! Oh, Bella, turn it up, honey! _We both know that Bryan Adams is reverberating around the blue BMW because Renee has no idea what to say to me. The last time we really spoke, Renee broke the vase she inherited from Gran and I got so upset that I threw up.

Phil has become some sickly, evil cancerous growth between us. His fleeting stupidity and wandering hands have totally screwed the good relationship that my mom and I once had, and not to mention broke Renee's heart. The SAPO being finalised the week before I came to Florida for summer vacation seemed like the thing that cracked her. She didn't like the idea of a restraining order, but Charlie insisted. I'm very glad that he did. Phil can't come into contact with me for a long while. I wish the niggling thoughts of_ his breath, his hands, his words, _would go away too.

There's nothing to stop them now.

Renee's driving isn't great at the best of times, so in all this rain I should be a little wary. But I'm just nervous. I don't know what to say to Edward. _Sorry, I don't feel like screwing around with you this summer, I'm dealing with some shit. Can we just go get some ice cream?_ I'm sure he won't ask any questions at all, because that's not a vague response at all. And it's totally like the Bella he knows to just brood, all holed up in her caravan. And ice cream is a totally plausible distraction in all this motherfucking freezing rain.

_Get a grip, Bella._ It's just Edward. Just the guy you've been vacationing and sleeping with for the past three years. Just the guy that you lo-

_Let's not go down that path, Little Red Riding Hood._

Edward's okay with it all. At least, he seems caring enough. He hugged me and let me cry and waited until I was ready to talk instead of asking _how are you feeling?_ He's always been wiser than his years, thank God.

Presently, we're sitting at his piano. Well, technically it's not _Edward's_. It's the piano that sits in the main eatery that the owners of this park try to pass off as a restaurant. Apparently, it's grand. The piano is old, made of mahogany-hued wood. But the piano is practically Edward's. Our families have been coming here every year for the past couple of years – and there's no doubt that Edward claims the instrument most nights we're here.

Although, Edward does tend to point out that it's not _his_ name that is clumsily carved into the piano's left side.

I watch intently as Edward tells me that he's going to teach me _Fur Elise_. Lately, my head and heart have been so caught up in the past that it's been so easy for me to be distracted. But I force away the unbidden memories and focus as Edward begins to flutter, delve and weave his fingers on the keys. He plays beautifully, his eyes widening comically at me when he accidentally hits the wrong note.

"Your turn," he announces in a sing-song voice. Then, he slowly begins to teach me.

The tension between us nearly drives me insane.

His fingers are cold as they gently press against mine, showing me when to put my fingers on the black keys, and then the ivory. His breath is hot against the side of my neck, making my straggly, rain-frizzled hair tickle the delicate skin. I know he's watching me intently. I can feel it. I intentionally avoid his gaze for the first couple of minutes as I finally get a short sequence of the song right – the first, infamous strain of decadent notes. But after listening to Edward's soft, reassuring voice patiently instructing me for a while, the urge is too great. I turn my gaze to him.

I look into Edward's strange green eyes; the translucency of them and the rain making the colour look green-grey. My gaze is heavy with sadness and anger and fear.

He closes his eyes, and presses his lips gently to mine, once. Only once. He doesn't touch my face, doesn't caress my cheek, doesn't support my back.

We break apart. The air around us is thick with awkward tension. After watching his hand twitch, as though he would like to hold mine, Edward finally speaks.

"I love you," he says softly. It's almost as though he doesn't want a response.

"I know," I respond quietly, anyway, misery coating my mouth. And Edward knows why I can't say it back. My parents marriage and subsequent divorce showed me what a thousand _I love you_'s can do – break someone's heart.

Edward smiles, shuts the piano, and motions for me to follow him. We leave the piano and the moment in the dark as Edward switches off the lights. I find myself chilled to the bone as we slowly make our way over the muddy grass. The rain is heavy. The clouds are inconsolable. Edward talks about something I can't bring myself to be interested in.

And then all of a sudden we're sitting on two foldout chairs outside his mom and dad's caravan. We're sharing a bottle of cheap and nasty vodka between us. It's night-time. I can't believe I've managed to lose track of a few hours. I guess Linkin Park were right about becoming numb.

I'm wearing a ratty old black jacket, the sleeves coming down to my fingertips, and a white beanie. Good thing, too, because it's so cold tonight.

Edward and I talk about the usual stuff. School, annoying assignments, good movies we've seen, strict parents, Emmett's break-up with his long-time girlfriend. I throw back a couple of shots from my pink plastic shot glass while we talk. My head starts to feel familiarly strange, control suddenly out of my reach. I don't like it. I don't like it _one bit._ My head whirls with horrible memories of the last time I felt out of control – when Phil came up to me in the kitchen a few months ago – and I feel like I'm being haunted. Haunted by my past, haunted by his unforgivable touches, haunted by my inconsolable feelings. I want to tell Edward I'm scared but I'm afraid my words will slur. He's so drunk himself, anyways; he's nattering on about some new band he loves and trying to find one of their songs that he's stored in his phone. He's having trouble with the keypad.

I try to not completely freak out. I close my eyes, trying to get my breathing even. Maybe twenty minutes pass. Emmett joins us and takes Edward's seat from him while Edward sits on the sandy ground. Edward goes to have another shot, can't stand the smell, and runs some distance away to throw up. I can hear the vomit splatter sickly against the ground. I grimace. I know what _that_ feels like. Or, at least, I used to. I don't think I'll be drinking again for a while.

Emmett watches Edward retch over by a nearby tree and sighs. "He's pretty pissed off at Mom and Dad at the moment. They aren't really taking to the whole Juilliard idea."

I raise my eyebrows so that they are obscured by my white beanie, but I don't look at Emmett to show my surprise. Instead, I focus on the chipped midnight-blue toenail paint while I dig my toes into the grainy, sandy grass as I speak. "So he really does want to go to Juilliard? He was tossing between that and Stetson last summer."

Emmett uncaps the vodka bottle, takes a sniff, and pulls a face in mild disgust. He takes a long swig of the clear liquid. Licking his lips, he replies, "Right now, he'd go to any college with a music program if they'll let him." Emmett laughs. "I think Dad wants him to go to Dartmouth, or Wash U or something. Never thought I'd feel superior for choosing a trade. Always thought Edward would become a doctor like Dad or whatever and_ I'd_ be the one who'd be told I didn't have a proper career."

"That's a dumb thing to think."

"It's how society thinks."

A ghost of a smile haunts my wind-chapped lips. "Going anarchist on me, Em?"

"Never, dear Miss Swan," Emmett responds teasingly. He takes another gulp of spirits straight from the bottle. I'm pleased to note that half an hour has passed and my head doesn't feel so foggy. Emmett asks me after a while, "Are you going to college? I can't really picture you in a sorority, to tell you the truth."

The old me would have made some joke or mocked a bimbo crying _Delta Nu!_ The new Bella Swan clears her throat awkwardly. "I'm not sure, really. I was thinking I might study an English literature degree if my _GPA 5.0_ classmates don't crush me. I…haven't really thought about it, lately, to be honest."

Emmett catches my eye. He looks serious. It's kind of intimidating. "I heard our parents talking about what happened. I'm sorry."

I'm frozen. I'm so frozen. I get like this every time someone I know _knows_ and I haven't told them. But Emmett isn't like the rest of my grade. He doesn't want to hurt me.

"Thanks," I choke out in reply.

Edward saves me from talking about it, bless him, by heaving up what looks like it used to be pizza. So I guess that's what we had for dinner. I praise his holy name, anyways, because Emmett takes this as his cue to leave. He gives me a salute goodbye and takes the bottle with him. I get up with a huff and go help the poor boy by the tree.

I give Edward a drink of water and make him stay up for another hour. It's the only thing my drunken mind can come up with to ensure Edward's safety. I'd witnessed Lauren drunkenly try to force bread down Angela's throat one too many times to know that only time would _tooootally_ _soak up all that vodka._

Finally, I drag his sorry ass to his bed and tell him to go to sleep. I can't believe he's so drunk and yet he doesn't try to get handsy with me. He grumbles some bullshit about how if he's asleep he won't be able to protect me. I tell him dryly that I can handle Emmett on my own, and he promptly falls unconscious/asleep. His breathing confirms the latter.

He looks adorable as he sleeps. Even if he smells like sick. A girl on the TV cries, "She doesn't even _go_ here!" and I smile. It's once of Edward's favorite scenes from the movie, he likes to claim, when he cares to admit he actually likes _Mean Girls_; it's the scene when all the girls are trying to sort out their issues in the gym. I watch Edward sadly.

Sometimes I feel guilty for being so guarded – and now because of _the incident_ I'm doubly so. Especially when Edward is being so gentle and fun and perfect.

I know he wants me to give in, because he knows that there are times when I want to. Times like this, when I watch him sleep.

But I keep on lying to myself, and Edward lets me.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed this outtake, and gained a little insight into Bella and Renee's relationship, and also she and Edward's intertwined past. I would love to hear your thoughts on 'You'!


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